


Forcecage

by DawnsEternalLight



Series: Of Lightning and Scales [3]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman and Robin (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Damian's got it really rough in this one, Everyone wants to hurt our local dragon lad, Fantasy AU, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Kidnapping, Magic, Whump, this is mostly just Damian and Dick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-10-01 16:59:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 34,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17247995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DawnsEternalLight/pseuds/DawnsEternalLight
Summary: After an argument with his family Damian runs off to stop poachers hunting in the woods around the castle and is snatched by a trio of witches.





	1. Hellish Rebuke

**Author's Note:**

> Some important setting notes for this fic:
> 
> This fic takes place before Heartfreeze
> 
> It is inspired loosely by events in Dick and Damian's Batman and Robin run and designed to explore their early relationship in the fantasy AU
> 
> It's roughly based on some events from Dick and Damian's Batman and Robin run
> 
> This was written as a prompt taken from Cerusee's gofundme campaign

Damian picked at his honey soaked apples, stabbing his fork into a slice and lifting it to watch the golden syrup drizzle down into his bowl. Breakfast time was not Damian’s favorite time of day. Despite it having the largest opportunity for honey and honeyed foods, he had a distaste for the setting. He did not like being seated only with his family, and yet by Father’s decree those were the only people present for breakfast.

Lunch he could take by himself in his own quarters where no one would bother him. Even dinner, where he also had to take his human form, was preferable to breakfast. It was a large affair every night with enough people around him to keep Damian from being forced to make small talk or find another way he didn’t fit in with his new family.

Still, Father found it an important ritual and Damian would not refuse to come. Mother had told him that spending more time with his father’s family would help him at least learn about them and their culture. He was intent on trying to take that advice. After all, that was Damian’s official reason for being here, to learn of his heritage on his father’s side.

He had set to studying these breakfasts instead of detesting them. Damian believed they were Father’s way of creating a few moments of peace in his life. It was much like those moments Damian tried to find when the rules and expectations of either of his lives were too much. He would find a quiet patch of sunlight to soak in and ignore everything for a few moments. Father’s patch of sun seemed to be quietly listening to those closest to him as they started their days.

He dropped the apple slice into his mouth and savored the sweetness of the honey paired with the sharp bright taste of the apple.

“The Fall Festival is coming soon.” Brown said, startling Damian, and making him almost choke on his apple.

He coughed as he jerked his head up in response to the voice. It was immediately obvious that Brown had not been speaking to him, her face instead was turned in the direction of Cain. They were leaned close together as they talked, intimate even as they were speaking loudly enough Damian could hear them across the table.

He shifted to get a better look at them, leaning slightly so he could look around Drake, who sat separating him from Brown. Normally he didn’t mind being seated at the end, in fact he chose the location more often than not, but something in him was driving him to want to connect today. He tried to tell himself it was simply curiosity towards human customs, but even that thought felt false.

Cain smiled, “I hope the jugglers come again.”

“And those fire breathers, I couldn’t take my eyes off them last year.” Brown giggled.

Damian was unsure why she was giggling about being able to breathe fire. He could do it well enough if she asked. He was also certain she was not making a jest of the ability, but took her entertainment from something else. Another something he did not understand.

His throat now clear again, Damian speared another slice and pretended he wasn’t surrounded by people chattering happily about things so long established he had no way of entering them. He was an outsider, it could not be plainer than the scales that still dotted his skin when he was human. It did not usually bother him, he was not here to make friends. Even if moments like this cropped up sometimes where his chest felt cold and tight.

“Will you make sure the fire breathers come this year, B?” Brown, now turning both girl’s attention to Father.

He grunted, and continued to sip at his juice.

Father was a mystery. More of a mystery than anything else in this country. He was not who Mother had told Damian he was, and yet he was the man Mother had spun tales of as Damian had fallen asleep.

Nothing Damian had done so far was right. Killing for any reason was frowned upon. Fighting for one’s place in line was wrong. Everything Damian had learned was wrong. That much he knew. Even though it clashed with everything he had ever been taught, Damian had accepted the fact and tried his best to follow his Father’s rules. Even if those rules seemed to change every time he did something.

Still, he tried. What else could he do? Return to his mother and the danger she had sent him away from? He could not leave, nor could he be banished from here. So Damian tried, even if he hated and did not understand the rules, he still tried to follow them. Besides, if he could get things right, even once, then perhaps his father would look at him the same way he looked at Cain and the others.

“Bruce?” Cain asked, prompting him for a more solid answer.

“Remind me later and I will, but you must remind me, Cassandra. I’m liable to forget with how busy things are this week.”

Cain clapped her hands and went back to discussing the festival with Brown. They were not the only voices at the table. Damian’s brothers had been in deep discussion since they’d sat down, he had paid attention enough to learn it was about a longstanding trip they took, and that Damian himself did not seem to be invited.

That was fine of course, it meant days of peace at the castle. Though, Damian would miss Grayson’s company, not that he would admit that. He’d rather die than let on that he cared an inch about the man’s opinion of him. Still, out of everyone in this new family, Grayson was the only one who seemed genuinely interested in him. Whether that was because Pennyworth had set Grayson to teaching Damian of their ways or not, he was unsure, but at least the man treated him like part of the family.

Damian poked at his apples with his fork, his appetite having fled. It was a shame, they were delectable. He forced himself to eat another, deciding he did not want to be hungry before lunch. The earlier sweet bite felt dry and disappointing now, the apple like ash, thick and cloying in his mouth.

Damian swallowed down the lump of apple and turned his attention back on his brothers, hoping their conversation was fading so he might grab Grayson’s attention.

Todd was speaking, “If all goes well we should have a good catch this year.”

“I don’t see why it shouldn’t, the game reports for the area have been favorable.” Drake said.

Damian sat up, curious about their chosen location, hunting was a revered sport to the dragons, one he’d quickly learned was done differently here. Still, he could not help but be curious.

He leaned forward, making eye contact with Grayson, “In the forest around the castle?”

“Yeah, the game is best here.” Grayson answered.

He seemed on the verge of saying something else, leaning in Damian’s direction, but Drake stopped him.

“Of course it’s there where else would we be talking about?” he said, his tone snide and demeaning. As if Damian’s question were a great weight put upon his shoulders and he was lowering himself to answer it.

Damian bit back the fire bubbling up inside him. It had been an innocent question, one Damian had no way of knowing the answer to beforehand. He was not used to his questions being treated as inconveniencing. Knowledge should be gained in everything, his mother had taught him, and Damian had never been denied it. No one at home had spoken to Damian so derisively before, they would have lost their heads over it. The differences seethed inside him, bubbling like lava in his stomach.

He hated the differences, hated having to bite down his pride and allow Drake the win here. His anger fought with the alienation that had been eating at him all day and finally gave into that lonely void. Damian wanted connection, not a battle today. That was more important than starting a fight, no matter how irritating Drake was.

He huffed, a puff of smoke drifting lazily from his nose, “The dragons have many fine hunting grounds they visit yearly. I was trying to determine if a similar custom was practiced here.”

“Well, we have a few places we like to go, but that’s often in the summer or late winter. During the fall we like to stay close to home.” Grayson said.

That made more sense to Damian. Of course his family had more than one area they hunted at. He was curious to know more about the practice, but before he could figure out what he wanted to ask Drake had turned the conversation back onto the trip.

Damian sat for a few minutes as they discussed things, before the word poaching caught his attention. Todd was speaking of the trouble they’d had in the past as if there was not current poaching going on in the forest around the castle. How could his brother’s be so blind to the obvious trouble going on over the course of the last few months?

Damian did not mind hunting for food, but he did care deeply about people hunting animals that did not belong to them, or that they were taking from others who might need it. Poaching was a problem in the area at the moment, one Damian had attempted to bring up to his father a few times already.

Animals were going missing to be sold at obscene prices in the market, or left mutilated in the forest. It made Damian’s fire spark. Taking a life should not be about sport or monetary gain, but to continue life. One should respect a creature’s sacrifice, and these poachers were doing the opposite.

Father, so far had not had time to listen to him, but perhaps his siblings would listen or the conversation would reach Father’s ears. Damian hoped he could gain the attention of someone who could take action. He was still far to new to the castle to have a hold over anyone or have a group he could command to take care of the problem.

“You might run into trouble on the hunt.” Damian said, “Those poachers have been more active in the area lately.”

Drake rolled his eyes, forcing Damian to swallow a growl, “Right, because they’d be caught so close to the castle.”

“Tt.” Damian huffed, “You have obviously not left the castle in ages then.”

Drake ruffled at that, his eyes narrowing, “I know because I keep up with what is going on.”

“Are you saying I am lying?”

“I’m saying” Tim said, pointing at him, “you didn’t even know we were hunting around here, how could you have any idea what else is going on?” His last word was accompanied by a physical jab at Damian’s arm, his bony finger stabbing at him.

Damian’s reaction was instant, without thinking he grabbed Drake’s hand and bit his arm. His teeth sunk into the flesh on his arm, blood bursting against his mouth in a warm wave. Damian savored the sensation for a moment, his fangs sinking deep enough to do true damage. Then, Drake screamed, yanking his arm back and Damian let go, his own mind coming back to him with a start.

He didn’t have time to think about what was going on as chaos erupted at the table. Grayson was standing immediately, a napkin placed against Tim’s arm. All the blood on the table turned Damian’s stomach, he hadn’t meant to--he shouldn’t have reacted that way as a human. It was something he’d have done against another dragon, not a fragile human.

He stood, sending his chair skittering back, and moved to reach out towards Drake. Grayson was somehow already between Damian and Drake, leaving Drake to clutch at the fabric on his arm. Grayson was a wall of anger, his eyes rolling storms. Damian could feel electricity in the air, and the scent of ozone burned his nose.

“Don’t.” The word froze Damian in place.

The fury in Grayson’s voice washed over Damian hitting him a wave of cold water. The fire burning in his stomach was temporarily quelled as Damian found himself scared of Grayson. The man was a force to be reckoned with. But even that fear couldn’t win out against the other emotions burning inside him. The fire in his stomach was reaching again, spitting against everything. It was devouring the fear and guilt spinning around in Damian’s mind.

He had not lashed out without provocation. Had Grayson not heard a word Drake had said? Had not paid attention to his tone? Damian did not deserve to be attacked in that way, even if he should not have fought back the way he had. He huffed, unsure of how exactly to direct his feelings.

Grayson did not seem to want to give him a chance to figure out what to do. He jerked one hand towards the door and Damian flinched. Not noticeably, or rather not enough that most people would notice, he had at least that much control over the inane reaction.

“Upstairs, now.” Grayson all but growled, “You can cool off in your room.”

“Go on.” Father’s voice added, breaking the spell holding Damian in place.

He hissed at them all, spitting out the rest of the blood in his mouth before storming from the room. He was seething, the fire in his stomach burning higher than he should let it in his human form, but he didn’t care. He hated them, all of them. Not a single person in that room even cared. 


	2. Calm Emotion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick helps Tim out. Damian makes a plan.

Dick watched as Damian stormed out of the room and turned his attention back to Tim. His brother was shaking, either with fury or shock Dick wasn’t sure, but he’d put his money on both. The way he and Damian set each other off never ceased to amaze him. By all rights they should get along best, being close in age, but here they were in the middle of another meltdown.

Tim was hissing, and to Dick’s eyes trying his best not to cry. Dick took back over the job of holding a napkin to his arm, noticing that it was shaking. Tim took the opportunity to grab Dick’s free hand with his own, his knuckles white, grip punishing.

Dick had to let go of his hand a moment later to take a long ribbon that someone, maybe Steph, handed him. He used it to tie the napkin around Tim’s arm, keeping it in place without his help. He let go, and Tim took up cradling his arm in his uninjured one.

His face was paler than it usually was, making Dick’s anger at Damian spark back up. The kid should have known better than to bite Tim. Biting should stop once you’d figured out how to walk, not be carried on to petty fights at the breakfast table.

“Come on, let’s get you to the healer.” Dick said, looping an arm around Tim’s shoulders to lead him out of the room.

Tim let him, and they moved carefully down the hall. Dick was careful to keep his arm around Tim and keep him steady in case he stumbled for any reason. He then stuck close when they found Healer Thompkins, sitting next to Tim as she worked on stopping the bleeding.

Enough time had apparently passed that Tim’s shock had worn off, and between pained hisses he was grumbling.

“I hate him.” he said, “He’s such a demon.”

“You did goad him on.” Dick couldn’t help but jump to Damian’s defense, even angry at him. It was a little much to call him a demon.

Tim tried to turn on him, making Leslie snap a ‘Stay still’. He settled for turning his face towards Dick to point at his arm.

“He bit me. The little monster straight up _bit_ me.”

“He’s bitten me before too.” Dick said, holding out his own arm to show Tim a light scar on his forearm. It was small, smaller than Tim’s would be, but proof enough of the act.

“Yeah, but he was a dragon then.” Tim huffed, “I don’t know which is worse, dragon or brat bite?”

Dick hummed, making Tim roll his eyes.

“Come on, you don’t like him either. You can’t. He’s the furthest thing from civilized or even nice.”

Now Dick frowned at Tim, “He shouldn’t have bitten you, I’ll give you that, Tim, but it’s hard to hate someone you don't know. He’s barely been here two months. He’s still getting used to the way things work, and learning the difference between dragons and other creatures. For all you know dragons might bite at each other like that all the time, they’ve got the scales to protect them.”

As Dick said the words he realized that they were true. Damian had come from a culture completely different from theirs, and from what Dick had seen and heard violence was more of an everyday activity for them than it was in Gotham. It was more than possible that the reaction hadn’t been intentional.

Tim huffed, and looked away from him, “I don’t care, he should still know better.”

They fell into silence while Leslie finished cleaning the blood off Tim’s arm. She huffed and stood, “This will need stitching.”

While they waited for Leslie to return Tim leaned into Dick’s side. Dick shifted to let Tim rest against him, pulling him into a hug.

“We were having a good time, and he ruined it.” Tim’s anger was gone now, replaced by hurt.

“The day isn’t ruined yet.” Dick said, squeezing his shoulder, “Once you’re all fixed up we’ll go finish working out the details for the trip with Jason, and then after you can show me that new book you dug up.”

Tim looked up at him, “And what about Damian?”

“I’ll talk to him later.” Dick promised, “After he’s had a chance to cool down for a bit.”

Tim scoffed, “I doubt he’s ever cool. But I mean, what about the trip?” Tim pushed, “He’s not coming with us on that is he?”

Dick hummed, “He’s a little young for the trip. We didn’t invite you until you were thirteen after all.”

Leslie returned, cutting off their conversation for a moment as Tim was directed to hold his arm out again. He winced as Leslie applied a numbing salve, then again when she began stitching up the ragged gash.

“Good. I don’t know what I’d do if I had to deal with him out in the middle of the woods for a week.” Tim grumbled, “I just need things to be the same right now.”

Dick chuckled, “I know what you mean. Things can get crazy around here.”

Still, he couldn’t stop thinking about Damian. He’d never expected the kid to bite Tim outside of his dragon form. Something must have riled him up besides Tim’s prodding. New or not, Dick liked to think he knew people, and something was obviously off about their youngest brother. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to let him calm down for a while. Dick didn’t think Leslie would appreciate having to deal with two bite victims in one day.

So Dick let things slide. He'd check in on Damian eventually, but for now all his attention was on his second youngest brother.

He chatted about nothing while Leslie finished stitching and then wrapping Tim’s arm. She let him go with a warning to stay put and not move. Next to him, Tim shifted on the gurney and sighed.

"I bet she's off to grab one of her potions. I hate them."

“Oh.” Dick said, reaching down to play with the strings on his bag of holding, “That reminds me. Bab’s gave me a potion the other day.”

Tim turned a sly smile on him, “Really?”

Dick punched him in the arm, “Nothing like that.” he leaned back, “She said I’d know when I needed it. She was all worked up about it, said I’d be furious and worried and that it would help. I thought for a moment this might be it, but it doesn’t feel like it.”

Tim nodded, “I doubt she’d give it to you if I was already getting one. Besides, it might not be good for anything, she’s wrong sometimes you know.”

“But not about the things that really matter.” Dick’s fingers went back to the stitching on his bag, “This seemed really important to her.”

Leslie came back with a potion. Dick almost laughed at Tim’s face as he took the bottle and stared at it. It was like she’d just told him to kiss Damian or eat a lemon whole.

"You know Damian hates those too?" Dick asked.

Tim glared at him, before downing the whole thing in a swig. This made Dick laugh harder.

When they were dismissed Dick led his brother back down the hall and off to find Jason. He'd taken up a spot in the library, pouring over old maps of the area and journals of previous trips. Dick could see Tim's eyes light up looking at the pages, hungry for information and a chance to gather everything he could about their latest quest.

It wasn't often they did things just for fun. More and more Tim's time was taken up dealing with cases, and working to stop criminals running through the country. Bruce's work, both during the day and night seemed to be all encompassing. It was good to have the chance to relax and enjoy things. Even if relaxing was doing something they did every year. The same didn't mean it couldn't still be fun.

Dick was happy to let his two younger brothers hash out the finer details of the hunt. He leaned back in his chair and let his eyes roam the library. It was a popular spot with each of his siblings, all for different reasons.

The towering stacks and incredible collection of books and knowledge was enough to draw anyone with even a little curiosity in. Dick himself had been lost in there many times as a kid. So many times that Bruce had forbid him going in without an adult present. Of course that had only increased the number of times Dick snuck in and got lost.

He loved the warmth of the dark polished wood, and large well placed windows. None of the stacks were placed where the sun could do too much damage to the book's spines, but the room was still always one of the best lit in the castle, even without the use of the magical glowing orbs dotted around the room.

Almost daily Dick found one of his siblings in the library. Jason, lost in the maze of books, Tim hunched at a desk. Cass curled up in a chair reading or sleeping. He’d even found Damian, snuggled in a patch of sunlight or reading lazily on one of the windowsills.

Next to him, Tim started leaning, lilting into Dick’s shoulder as his eyes blinked heavily. Dick knew Leslie’s potion had started kicking in, and too soon his kid brother would be sleeping instead of planning. No matter who it was taking one of Healer Thompkins potions, they were sure to find themselves sleepy and slow for hours after, even if they fought off the actual need for sleep it brought on. It was just one of the side effects, and one they all had learned to accept willingly in exchange for accelerated healing of wounds and pain relief.

"Hey there Timmy, ready for a nap?" Dick asked.

Tim groaned, "No."

"You took one of Leslie's potions didn't you?" Jason grinned, "I’m surprised you’ve lasted this long."

"Shut up." Tim said, "I'll be fine. I've been fine before."

"You should probably rest." Dick told him, "It'll help you heal up faster."

Tim rolled his eyes at him, but made no move to stop leaning against Dick’s arm. Dick poked him, “Come on, no one wants to catch a sleepy prince falling down in the halls. If anything, this whole event is forcing you to get some extra hours of sleep.”

Tim made a whining sound, kind of like the tea kettle starting to boil and sat up, “Fine. But if either of you tries to spin this in a positive light again I’ll figure out some way to get Damian to bite you too.”   
  


* * *

 

Damian was a dragon again before he even reached his room, climbing onto his bed to burrow angrily in the blankets. The smoke he was creating forced him to poke his head out of the nest of blankets he’d buried himself in so he didn't cough on it. The cool air of his room hit his face and smothered the anger in him, leaving him with fear and guilt swirling in his chest.

His face burned with shame at having bit Drake. It had been stupid, how dare he allow his instincts to rule him in that way? He had come here to learn how to be a normal human, and today he had failed in the worst way possible.

Grayson’s fury returned to his mind. Cold and hard, like the few times Damian had made grandfather angry. It had chilled him, and Damian knew he had ruined the little favor he held with his father’s oldest heir.

It hurt worse than he had imagined it would. His chest ached, sharp and tight. He couldn’t breathe clearly around sudden angry tears. His smoke turned a dark color, as his flame flickered against his warring emotions.

Everything had gone wrong. Father and Grayson were angry with him. He had hurt one of Father’s children. That thought alone terrified him. If Father did not forgive him, would he be sent away?

Damian pulled the blankets tighter around him, as his whole body began to shudder. He could not be sent away. He had nowhere else to go. He could not return to the dragons like this, failed and banished. Nor was he confident starting out into the world on his own. He had many skills, but he was painfully aware of the fact that he was not fully grown, and would not manage without assistance for a few years yet.

He had to do something to make up for this failure. Mother had taught him as much. If you failed, you fixed it and showed that you would not fail again. He had to prove himself, show he was useful and did not need to be banished. The poachers came back to mind, the reason for this mess Damian was in. He could stop them. If he did it would make up for his attack by making the trip safer, plus he would help the kingdom.

Yes, he would stop the poachers, and come home victorious.

With everyone still distracted by Drake, Damian was able to easily sneak out of the castle and obtain a horse from the stables. He’d prefer to be in his dragon form for this particular hunt, but he had not managed to convince any of the horses not to buck while he was in that form, and he did not have the time to try today.

He saddled his own horse, Hestia. She had been Father’s first (and so far last) gift to him on arriving. It had taken days of constant visits with sweets and soft words for her to calm down around Damian, and he was proud of the bond they now shared. He was confident he’d get her to be comfortable around his dragon form soon enough, even if today was not the day for such training. 

He knew the general area the poachers frequented, and aimed himself in that direction. Even with this decision he was still upset. He could not get Grayson’s face out of his head, nor could he shake the worry that he might be banished.

He could not be sent back to mother. Pride was a large part of his reasoning, but it was not the only one. He had come to stay with his Father for more than simply learning of his human heritage. It was too dangerous for him to stay with the dragons right then. Dissent within Grandfather’s ranks had sent him away. Damian had not wanted to leave, he believed he could handle himself fine around the dragons, but Mother had not seen it that way. She feared he was under threat of death if he stayed, and that Grandfather’s enemies might move against his heir. If Damian returned now he would be even more of a target. He couldn’t do that, could not put himself in that kind of danger. He also could not bring the shame of failure on his family. Finding these poachers was all important.

Damian was so distracted by his own worries he did not notice the woman step out in front of his horse. She screeched something Damian could not understand, her words in a language he was unfamiliar with. Energy flowed out from her, startling both Damian and Hestia, making her rear.

He was thrown from her back, and on instinct he turned back into his dragon form. He was still too young for his wings to have the strength they needed to keep him aloft long, but he managed to catch himself, and slow his fall, fluttering to the ground.

Hestia bolted, disappearing into the woods. As she did, Damian heard the woman curse. He couldn’t help but feel relieved at the abandonment. There was something wrong in the air, a sick feeling that creeped and twisted trying to find its way under his scales. Even the air tasted wrong, bitter and herby, and none of it belonging to Father’s land. Hestia’s running meant she was safe from whatever had attacked them, even if Damian was now on his own.

“Where is the steed?” a second woman asked, appearing from the woods.

“Fled.” the first grumbled.

Damian hunched down, making himself as small as possible so he wouldn’t be seen. He was not afraid, only using his size to his advantage. If he went unseen he had the benefit of surprise, especially if these women were the poachers he was searching for. Their conversation seemed to hint at that being their identities. Why else would they be more interested in a royal steed than it’s rider? Damian had not missed the fact that the question had not been about him first, a sure sign he was not the original target of the surprise attack.

“And it’s rider?”

A grumble came as the woman’s answer.

“So you wasted magic on nothing?”

Damian inched forward to get a better look at the women. He kept his movements as slow and quiet as he could, his focus intent on one single purpose. Shock ripped through him as a hand grabbed him by his wings, yanking him up from his hiding spot with a yelp. Instinct and panic had him thrashing against the hold, his wings aching as they tried unsuccessfully to flap in the palm of the hand holding them.

“Don’t worry, ladies the day is not yet lost. Look at what I’ve found.” a third voice cackled in his ear, shaking him with her triumph.

Damian hissed, as pain pulled at his back and tried to turn in the woman’s grasp so he could bite at her or spit burning flames to free himself. He lashed out with a claw, finally catching her wrist. Bright red blood pooled out, and this time Damian knew he would feel no guilt for inflicting a wound.

The woman swore, and tightened her grip on his wings. She then reached out to grab his flailing body, both squishing it up against his pinned wings, and cutting off any fight he had beyond squirming.

“Get me a bag of holding.”

Damian doubled his attempts to get away, and spit flames at the hands reaching towards him holding some kind of sack.

“That is enough of that.” The first woman said, pointing at him, she spoke another word in that strange language. He was realizing now that they were spells. The wrong feeling of magic in the air had not been a mistake. These women were more than poachers, they were witches.

Heaviness flowed over Damian. He tried his best to fight the exhaustion racing through his body, but he was fading fast. He used so much energy fighting the spell, he had little fight in him left to struggle against the bag he was dumped into.

Fabric wrapped him in darkness as the bag was tugged close. He pushed once against it, but the spell pulled harder at him, winning out at last. Damian’s last thought before he passed out was of just how badly this day was going for him. 


	3. Alarm

Dick's intent after making sure Tim was settled in was going to find Damian, but business called him away. Meetings, and Bruce wanting him to be a second set of ears kept Dick busy for hours longer than he'd planned to be away from his youngest brother. In fact, by the time he pulled himself away from everything Tim was awake again, slightly frumpled but feeling better than he had when he’d passed out.

Dick knocked lightly on Damian’s door and waited. He was hoping Damian had calmed down a bit at this point, but he also didn’t want to open the door to a fire spitting dragon. For all he knew Damian could have been stewing in his room since he'd been sent up to it. Dick wasn't sure what to expect. That thought alone dug at him in an odd way, shouldn't he know by now how Damian reacted to these kinds of things? Was this really one of his first times seeking out the kid after a fight?

He was expecting to receive a “go away” or “come in”, so when the other side of the door was silent for over a minute Dick decided he wasn’t getting an answer. He risked opening the door. No small bronze firecracker launched himself at him, and no sullen boy sat on the bed ready to glare him out of the room.

It was empty of anyone at all. That alone, didn't cause much alarm. If it had been him sent up to his room hours ago Dick wouldn't still be there. It was always possible that Damian had gone into the cave or out to the practice fields to work off his frustration by training. He might have guessed he was in the library, only he’d just been there, and he had a feeling Damian wouldn’t have stayed if he’d known anyone else was going to spend a long time in there.

He opted for checking the fields first, since they were closest. As he moved, Dick tried to ignore the buzz of guilt eating away at his stomach. He couldn’t stop thinking about his own defense of Damian.

It was easy to put himself in Damian’s place and imagine how confusing and frustrating things might be for him. He’d been at the castle weeks, and beyond training with tutors Dick wasn’t sure how much he was being taught about Gotham or his family’s culture. He was a prince, and from what Dick knew, an only child with the dragons. Being confused and uncertain was not normal territory for him. It made sense that Tim attacking his pride and knowledge had been a recipe for disaster.

Dick had been a part of making that recipe. He knew how prickly and spindly Damian was with everyone, and how easy it was to let him push you away. Worst of all, Dick had let that happen, being happy to let someone else keep an eye on the kid instead of trying to make him feel welcome and at home. He wasn’t sure what he was going to say to Damian when he found him, but he was going to find him and talk. He couldn’t let things keep going like this, and it wasn’t fair to Damian (or anyone else) to keep him constantly in the dark.

The training yard was abuzz with people. There were soldiers practicing swordplay and archery. Men and women crowded the area, some leaning against the fences that ringed the yard, some standing in groups, chattering away. Most people watched matches take place and cheered for their favorites. It was a comforting and familiar sight. One Dick had quickly grown used to when he'd first arrived at the castle. It was also something he always enjoyed taking advantage of. What better place was there for him to show off than this? Even Bruce and his need for secret identities couldn't deny him when he wanted to train in the open. A prince of the kingdom should be able to defend himself, and should be pretty good at it.

Still, the normality to the scene bothered him today. If Damian was here he’d expect either a stillness over the fields or absolute chaos. The child had a way of bringing both in his wake.

“Excuse me.” he said, grabbing a page boy’s attention, “Have you seen Prince Damian?”

The young man shook his head, hair that was getting a little too long for him swishing with the movement, “The prince has not been down here today. Perhaps he has gone to the stables?”

Dick didn’t like that idea, even if it made sense. “Perhaps.” he answered distracted, “Thank you for your help.”

The stubborn refusal to assume Damian had gone to the stables (and possibly run off for some reason) left Dick wandering the practice fields for ten minutes, idly searching so he didn’t cause any stirrings of worry in the crowd. He chatted lightly with people and spent some time watching new recruits practice their swordplay against one another with wooden practice weapons, hoping the whole time that Damian would find him.

He didn’t linger too long though. If he did he might get pulled in to spar. He’d enjoy that on a normal day, but today he was looking for his brother. He made his way to the stables slowly, eyes scanning the area around him for signs of Damian. While beautiful and well kept, the hills and greenery were empty of dragons or dragon born boys wandering around.

Dick wasn’t worried. He told himself that as he tried to keep his steps measured. He hadn’t checked the cave yet, and it was always possible Damian was out for a ride. But something felt off about all of this. Maybe it was that he was being paranoid, or maybe it was because Dick knew too much about Waynes to believe Damian would sulk around for very long without doing something.

He made it to the stables and found out that Damian had indeed taken Hestia out for a ride. Being told that he’d done it while agitated didn’t help Dick’s worry. He was about to turn around and head back to the castle to wait when Hestia came bursting from the trees lining the stables, to stop, panting as a handler caught her empty reigns.

Hestia was breathing heavy, her eyes wide and terrified, but she allowed Dick to rub her muzzle and whisper soothing words to her. Every, “Shh, it’s okay. Everything is alright.” felt like a lie to Dick’s ears. Something was wrong. Damian adored Hestia. He’d worked so hard to gain her trust, even going so far as to sleep by her one night to help her get used to his presence. He wouldn’t let her run off like this if something hadn’t happened.

His mind tried to come up with a better solution than his little brother dead in the woods somewhere, but everything he came up with felt hollow. Spooked by a wild animal? Unlikely since Damian scared most animals more than wolves or bears. Some kind of falling accident where Hestia tripped? Damian would have simply changed to prevent himself from being hurt, and Hestia didn’t seem to have a limp.

Even the most far fetched: Damian attempting to get Hestia to let him ride as a dragon didn’t make sense outside of the stables. He had enough sense not to try something like that by himself in unfamiliar territory.

Which left sprawled on the floor dead. Or kidnapped. Or poached.

That last thought sent a shiver of terror down Dick’s back. So much so that the skies rumbled overhead in response. He had to go. Had to follow Damian out on whatever path he’d taken, had to find his baby brother. Dick’s hand tightened on the reins as he led Hestia to a stable hand, ready to hand her off and claim his own horse, Revia.

He stopped short of asking for his own ride. He had no idea where Damian was, or where to start looking. He hadn’t paid enough attention to any of the poaching talk, his mind had always been elsewhere, on other matters. He needed a map, and a location to start with. Maybe he could even get a searching spell from Alfred. It would cost time, but so would wandering aimlessly in the forest. Besides, he might be able to recruit someone to help him search. The more eyes the better.

Dick ran back to the castle. Two questions and one confused pageboy later Dick had found Alfred. He pulled the man aside and explained the situation. Alfred had been there for the biting incident, so it didn’t take much more than Dick saying “Damian’s not at the castle and his horse just showed up terrified.”

“You will be going after him I presume?” Alfred asked, in a tone saying he already knew what Dick’s answer would be.

“I am. I was hoping you could give me a tracking spell, and send some men out after me.”

Dick knew that Alfred wouldn’t try to dissuade him from going. If he did, they both knew Dick would go out anyway without help. They didn’t have a lot of time to rally troops, but he had a feeling that if he found Captain Gordon he would be happy to assign a few guards to assist. Beyond that, Dick refused to wait around for anyone or anything before he set off.

“I believe I have a spell that will do, however I'll need something of his. Do you have anything with you?”

Dick shook his head, “No, but I can go grab something from his room. I had to find Tim anyway.”

“It will take me some time to put it together, let us meet in my study in a few hours.”

A few hours felt far too long to Dick. He was already antsy having not left immediately. He shifted, and opened his mouth to argue, but Alfred beat him to it.

“In a few hours the young prince might very well return on his own. It’s likely he was simply thrown and is making his way back at a slower pace.”

Dick shifted his weight from one foot to the other, “I know, but.”

“And this is not the first time he has run off?” It was posed as a question, but both Dick and Alfred knew the truth.

“It feels different this time.”

Alfred sighed, “I will cast the spell, but it is going to take time, there is no getting around that. Use it to make preparations, I will not have two of you missing for lack of proper care.”

Dick grumbled, but Alfred’s tone and steel gaze were enough to make him sigh, “Alright,” he relented, “Maybe I can use this time to get Tim or Jason to help me out, but please hurry. If Damian’s actually in trouble he needs all the help he can get.”

Alfred nodded his agreement before doling out more instructions. “Find Captain Gordon and speak with him. You’ll go with an escort or you will not go at all. If there are dangerous poachers in the woods willing to take a dragon of any size they will be equally willing to take you.”

Alfred wasn’t wrong. Dick had enough memories of being taken himself many times, sometimes when he was a child, and some still fresh in his mind. More often than not he was targeted because of his magic, and blood, and whatever else they felt like using from him. A man had cut off his hair one time thinking it might hold some magical properties. All were close calls that left Bruce white as a sheet over him.

He had a feeling that if Damian was really in danger, and Dick were caught unaware, Bruce might end up worried over both of them.

“Be sure to collect a speaking stone from the cave, I want to be in communication with you while you are away.”

Dick started, “What if Damian took one? In case he needed to call us? Maybe I can contact him on that.” He went to turn and paused, “I’ll let you know if I’ve found him, but otherwise please work on that spell for me?”

“Of course.” Alfred told him.

Dick hurried down to the old renovated dungeon they called ‘the cave’ and dug around for the speaking stones. They lay, evenly spaced, on a platform. Dick snatched his, a deep emerald green, and tried to contact his brother.

“Damian, Damian you there?”

His voice echoed in doubles through the room, Damian’s fiery orange stone flashing as Dick tried to contact it. He had the sudden urge to swear and throw the stone in his hands in hopes that it might relieve some of his frustration. Instead he tugged it over his neck and tucked it under his tunic, the cool stone resting heavy against his chest.

Damian hadn’t taken his stone. That made enough sense if Dick imagined him angry and ready to prove himself, and unwilling to ask for help. He would have done the same thing as a kid if he were mad at Bruce. It didn’t change the fact that it was rash and foolish, and Dick would tell him that the moment he found him.

Dick moved on to finding Captain Gordon, quickly informing him of the situation and securing the promise that at least two men would be found to accompany him when he left. Dick tried to ignore the thought that they might slow him down. If they did, he could always lose them in the woods, ask the trees to distract them while he listened to see if they had news of his brother’s passing by.

He was promised a map of the poachers locations within the hour and took that for the good news it was, leaving to find his brothers. He’d ask Cassandra for help, but she and Stephanie were out of the castle with no estimated time to arrive back, and Dick didn’t want to wait.

Dick found Tim back in the library, groggy and rumpled, but seeming relatively fine in light of the day's events. Dick wasn’t sure he wanted to ask his second youngest brother to help him find Damian, not because of their fight, but because Dick didn’t want to risk him hurting his arm further. Still, it might not hurt to at least let Tim know what was going on.

He sat down in the large cushioned chair beside his brother as Tim stuck a finger between the pages of his book and rested it in his lap. The bandage on his arm still looked clean, if a little mussed to match it’s owner.

“How’s your arm?”

“Not too bad.” Tim said, with a shrug. “Sleep inducing or not, Leslie’s potions do wonders, I haven’t felt a thing since I woke up.”

Dick nodded, “Good, I’m glad.” he shifted in his chair.

Tim frowned at him, “What’s up? I don’t think you came here to check on me, as nice as it was.”

“I did!” Dick argued, “But I also came to give you an update on Damian.”

His brother scowled, “He insisted on going on the trip didn’t he? Dick, I know he’s new but this is our…”

“It’s not the trip.” Dick interrupted him, “He’s missing.”

Tim’s argument dropped off with an, “Oh.”

He shifted now, moving the book from one thigh to the other, “Are you sure he’s missing and not moping in the forest or his room?”

Dick shook his head, “His horse came running back alone. My guess is he went after the poachers and got in some trouble.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his legs, “I’m heading out as soon as I can to look for him, will you come with me?”

Tim scowled, hand going to his arm, “He’s probably fine. And if he’s not, isn’t he always claiming he can take care of himself?”

“That’s not the point.” Dick said, “He’s ten. No ten year old can take care of themselves, dragonborn or not. And as annoying as he can be, he’s family. We don’t abandon family.”

Damian was family, and Dick? Dick hadn’t been treating him like that. He hadn’t fought with him like Tim did, but he hadn’t actually tried. In a sense he’d done exactly what he’d just told Tim they didn’t do. He’d all but abandoned him to his own desires in the castle and had left him to fend for himself. How had he let a ten year old convince him he didn’t need his family?

Tim sighed, "I'm likely to be more trouble than good to you out there. I'll stay back with a stone to let you know if he arrives while you're out looking, that way you do not get lost in the woods yourself."

Dick nodded, happy with the answer, "Thanks, Timmy. I know you two don't get along well, but maybe when all this is behind us we can start figuring out a way to fix that."

He just hoped that when everything was behind them he still had all his brothers, safe and sound, and still argumentative. That fixing things didn't happen because one of them was gone.


	4. Forcecage

Damian woke up as he was dumped out of the bag and onto something hard and cold. He hardly had time to clear his head or right himself before metal banged closed, ringing in his ears and shaking his new prison. 

He blinked back the lingering effects of the spell and got to his feet, swaying once, then twice, before he stumbled. One of his feet slipped under him making him tumble hard into thick, uneven bars. He sat down, leaning into them. It might be best to stay seated while he shook off the last effects of the spell. Besides, the witches didn’t seem interested in him at all at the moment. This way, he could assess his surroundings and find the best path of escape. 

He turned his head and found that the size of the cage they’d tossed him in was just big enough for him to be able to stand on all fours with his wings pressed close to his back. Trying to extend them had his wings brushing into the top bars. It was wide enough he could probably curl up if he wanted to. The door was locked with a large padlock that Damian was sure he could pick if he had enough time.

If worse came to worse he could probably change and break the cage with his human form. The bars were rusty and old, chipped in places from other inhabitants. Damian tried not to think too hard about that last observation. Or of the despair that must have weighed over the other creatures that had been trapped here before. 

He would not end up like them. He would get out and have his revenge on the witches who’d taken him, and who’d been preying on his father’s land. They would feel his wrath for both the indignity of attempting to capture him and hold him prisoner here. 

Damian expanded his survey beyond his immediate surroundings to the interior of the shack they had taken him to. It was of an acceptable size, though rather small for all the stuff they had filled it with. Pans hung from one wall, bunches of herbs from another, and to Damian’s horror, hides on another. Rabbit, bear, and fox were easily distinguishable from where he was, with other less familiar ones hung close by. A dragon skull was mounted above a fireplace, the fire under it flickering off the skull in a way that made Damian’s stomach turn. 

The floor was as cluttered and messy as the walls and ceiling were. Damian saw other cages stacked haphazardly close to his own, piled so high they reached the table he was resting on. A chain and collar were shackled to the wall next to him. He hated to think of what they might have held there in the past.

The main floor of room was taken up with a large wooden table, a smaller ancillary table, and a selection of chairs scattered around it. Cupboards and shelves dotted every other bit of space, filled to bursting with books, bottles, and ceramics, some covered, and others with strange things dangling out. The bottles were filled with different liquids mostly, murky and oddly colored at times, while others looked to be alcohols or honey. 

Above the fire a hook hung, probably to hang a cauldron from. Damian was happy to find the cauldron not on there, he did not think he had been taken to replace dinner, but he would not put it past the witches. 

During his examination the women had scattered. One to a chair to knit as if she were a harmless old woman, the other two through a second door that led perhaps back to a bedroom. Damian could not risk attempting to pick the padlock while he was being watched. Instead he shifted, leaning away from the bars and curling up in the center of the cage to rest and plot. He would need all of his strength if he wanted to have the best chance of avoiding their magic and escaping. 

He was not given a real opportunity to attempt to pick the lock as the room was filled with activity for a few hours. The women moved in and out of the other room, chattering and working around the tables. One hung the cauldron and began pulling herbs from the ceiling, and ingredients from a large cupboard to the side of the fireplace. 

Damian hated the way his stomach recoiled when she pulled a foxes tail, red and dipped in white fur, out and dumped it whole into the pot. Then again when bat wings, and something round Damian hoped were not eyes were removed and dropped in. Her strange mutterings seemed to be spellwork to him, he was glad it was not something they were using him for. 

The spell or potion was well into cooking before anyone paid Damian any attention. The sharp, acrid scent drifting off the pot had Damian scrunching his nose at it and the witch who’d approached him. She smelled little better than the bubbling concoction. He didn’t cower back as she came towards the cage, instead coiling in preparation to burst forward. 

The woman didn’t seem to notice his preparation, and Damian realized she’d been the first one to surprise Hestia and he. He could feel it radiating off her, she was their weakest link. He resisted grinning at her, he would take care not to give everything away. Even if she was not the smartest of the bunch. 

“Hello little one, it’s time to be of some use to us.” she said, her voice in a sickly sweet coo that made Damian want to tear at her face with his claws. 

He had the element of surprise as she opened the cage and reached in for him. He allowed her to pull him out of his prison before he spit fire in her face, then the next moment he changed forms, letting his body grow from dragon back into boy, growing so quickly her grip on him broke. 

Damian jumped, kicking against the woman’s chest with his foot to use her as a spring. His momentum, and her surprise, sent her careening backwards into a fall. He landed past her, bolting towards the door. The woman was screaming behind him.

“Get him!” she screeched, “The child is a shifter!” 

Any element of surprise his form could have had on the remaining women was lost with her warning. That was fine, Damian was at the door already, flinging it open and running straight forward. He took one second to look back at the chaos he’d caused and slammed into someone else. 

Arms wrapped tight around him, pressing Damian into the front of someone who smelled of the same spices cooking in the shack. He kicked and squirmed at arms that didn’t move. Instead he was lifted and hauled back inside before the woman let go of him, keeping one hand in an iron grip on his arm. 

She looked down at him with a toothy grin, “Full of surprises aren’t you little one?” 

Damian jerked against her grip as she slammed the door closed behind them, “Let me go before I tear off your hand.” 

“I doubt you’ll do that.” her grin widened to reveal a few missing teeth, “You’re too little still. Perfect for harvesting with minimal fight.” 

He charged at her with his free hand, only to have it grabbed by another woman. He swiveled his attention to her, and grinned at her face, red and already blistering a bit, this was the one he’d surprised. 

“You’re outnumbered.” she told him.

The other picked at his arm, one long nail hooking under one of the scales peeking out beneath his sleeve. The pressure was uncomfortable, making Damian attempt to pull away. Her nail stayed hooked, poking it and the scale into his skin while also pulling at it. Damian hissed and kicked again at her. 

“Stop that!” 

She clicked her tongue, “Yes this won’t do. You’ve far too few of these in this form.”

Fear coiled in Damian’s stomach, strangely reminiscent of the sick feeling he’d had seeing the bits of animals around the room. He didn’t dare change again to try and escape, not if they were planning on taking his scales. 

“You will release me.” he growled, “If you do not you will pay for it.” 

“And who’s going to make us pay?” the burned woman asked, “You can do little more than squirm.” 

He could do a lot more than that, but he was biding his time. The third woman had not yet appeared again and he was out of surprises. He would have to break free and take them out all at once if he had a chance of making it out. Any delay would give them an opportunity to put another spell on him, and he could not afford to attempt to fight that magic and them. 

“My father will make you pay.” he spat, “He will send all the armies of Gotham after me.” 

Burned woman reached out and plucked the golden circlet from his brow. It caught for a second on one of the small horns atop his head before coming off. She let it hang from a finger, the curved end swaying with momentum. 

“Your father?” she said with a hum, “I’ve heard your father cannot stand you, dragonling.” 

Damian jerked forward, unsure what he’d do with both his hands caught between the two women, “Liar!” 

She dangled the circlet in front of him, “That is not all I’ve heard. A family that banished you from one home? Another that does not speak to you even while you wander their halls? The dragon prince of Gotham will not be searched for.” she said, snatching the circlet back to press the gold tight in her palm, bending it until it was folded in on itself, “In fact they may thank us for taking care of you.”

Fury raged in Damian, his fire burning so bright he changed without thinking back into his dragon form as he dove at her. Before he could even move he was grabbed again, curse his small size, and his mouth, roaring, was grabbed with nimble fingers, his jaws wrenched open. 

He squirmed, fury replaced by panic as both women cackled and a potion pulled from one’s hip was dumped down his throat. He tried to spit it back up, but before he could those same hands had snapped his jaw shut, holding it tight. 

He kicked and fought, his tail lashing out until he at last swallowed the liquid. It tasted rank, like overripe fruit too sweet and off in flavor. And, it burned, blooming within him into a foreign fire that seemed to touch every inch of his body. His skin felt tight, sucked in on itself. His own fire flickered with panic as his emotions raged between terror and anger. 

“What was that?” he rasped when the hand holding his jaws let go.

“A potion designed to lock your form in place. This way we do not have to deal with you constantly switching, and can harvest as we please.” 

There was that word harvest again. Damian pushed at the woman’s hands, “Let me go.” he demanded again. 

“Of course.” the woman said, taking him to the smaller table.

Damian noticed now that it wasn’t simply a smooth surface. Thick leather straps were attached to a side, with latches resting on the other. Dangling under the straps were metal cuffs, small enough to hold most creatures in place if they chose to use them. He panicked, trying to change to get away. Anything to get away. He tried to pull his flame back and allow his body to grow and change, but it wouldn’t. Instead his attempts seemed to backfire on him, all the energy lashing back at his chest like he’d been stabbed. 

He gasped at the sudden pain. Before he could recover he’d been dropped onto the table, and the thick straps were pulled over him, being yanked tight. They pressed painfully into his back and shoulders. His wings were pinned at an odd angle against his back, making him wish he could shift them to relieve pressure already building. Damian had a feeling if he was kept there long the leather would begin to cut into his scales with bruising force. 

Neither woman spoke to him again, instead turning the discussion between them. Damian wiggled against the leather testing its strength. Unlike the cage the straps still smelled of oil and fresh bright newness. The straps still looked smooth, their surface unmarred by folds or bends that eventually spread across leather like veins. 

“We need some for today’s spell, and a few for the fire protection spell ordered last week.” one of the women was saying. 

“It does not hurt to have some prepared for the upcoming festival as well. They will sell as charms and components.” 

Damian swallowed back his worry at their talk. His scales weren’t supposed to be removed. He’d pulled a few once during his training with mother. He had ended up caught in brambles, some of them getting lucky enough to hook scales and tear them out as Damian had fought for freedom. It had felt much like if he’d pulled the fingernails from his hands, leaving the skin underneath raw and swollen. 

They’d grown back. He’d been terrified that they wouldn’t, but they had. Not the same brilliant bronze his scales usually were, but darker, like amber or metals mixed together for armor. He’d hated the discoloration, but they’d been an important lesson, he was young and as protective as his scales were they were not as strong as Mother’s, and easily torn. 

At least, he told himself, they were only speaking about his scales. 

The women stopped deliberating at last and Damian heard the clanking of something metal. He tried to crane his head to see, but he was at a bad angle to find out what they were collecting. 

A ceramic bowl slammed down next to his head, making him jump. He didn’t get much movement as the straps did their job, neatly holding him in place.

The burned woman cackled next to him, “I’ve got the joy of helping you out.” she said, motioning to the blisters, “Let’s see how much pain I can give you in return for mine.”

Damian hissed at her building fire in his stomach. It would be stupid to attempt to burn her now while he had no way of escaping. He let the fire fizzle down back into the flickering flame it usually was. He would revenge himself soon. 

She was careful to keep her hand out of biting range as she angled metal tweezers, with a strange thin hook on each end towards his back. He lost track of her arm then, he couldn’t lift and turn his head enough to see exactly what she was doing. 

There was pressure and then sharp pain of a scale being plucked, making it immediately clear what was happening. Damian winced and bit back a swear. He heard his scale drop into the bowl, making an almost light musical note as it clinked against the container. 

It happened again, and again. A regular pattern of pluck, plink, pluck. 

It was irritating first, then fire as his back had no relief from the constant pull and tear of scales being pulled from it. He squirmed and only made the pliers dig into skin, igniting a fresh burst of pain against and already inflamed spot. 

An hour in, it was all Damian could do not to whimper every time a scale was pulled from his back. The woman had to be done soon. She had to. She’d pulled so many scales, she couldn’t need that many. Could not want that many. 

A scale didn’t pull on the first try, the pressure never turning into pain. She tried again and Damian yelped feeling something more than just scale tear. He whined, a high pitched noise slipping from his lungs. He felt hot tears pricking at his eyes, not from being upset, but from the constant burn of pain. 

“That’s plenty for now.”

Damian hadn’t heard anyone else come up, but he was thankful for her arrival. It hopefully meant he’d be pulled off this table and he could move again. He ignored the minor squabble that sparked at the suggestion burned woman stop for the day, instead counting his breaths so he didn’t make a sound when they inevitably removed the straps. 

He could try to escape now, but everything hurt so much he was afraid he wouldn’t manage much more than a bite. He needed time to recover a bit before he tried anything else. So he let them argue, and then sucked in a breath as the leather was released and his wings finally shifted from their awkward angle. 

Rough hands grabbed him, inflaming the pain once again in his back and eliciting another whine. Damian didn’t fight as he was carried back to the cage and tossed in. He shifted, trying to find a comfortable position as the lock was snapped into place. 

Distantly he heard, “I told you the dragonling would not fight at this point.” 

“I still believe we should render him unconscious the next time.” 

Breathing hurt because it meant his back expanded upwards, forcing the swollen skin there to move, but at least his chest wasn’t being pressed into a table anymore. His first instinct was to curl, but that pressed scales against raw skin in an uncomfortable way. He switched to laying flat, stretching his back out evenly to prevent any unwanted shifting of the sharp edges of scales on inflamed skin. 

The tears he’d been fighting earlier came back now that he had a moment alone. Damian blinked them back. He was being weak. Mother would not approve of him wallowing in the shame and pain that had been inflicted on him. She would tell him to get over it and find a way to rise above the situation. 

Gold glittered in the light of the fire. Damian looked over at his bent circlet. It was a shame the woman had damaged it. He’d liked that one very much. He would not put it past the woman to melt it down to use for some demented purpose. Or simply to take it away from him completely. 

Grayson had given it to him. It was one of the few things he’d done for Damian since he’d arrived, and more than his other siblings had bothered with. Damian had not had one with his mother. He was in his dragon form most often with her, and when he had been human it had been for training purposes only. There had been no need for silly baubles he would not use. 

When Grayson found out Damian did not have one he’d insisted on rectifying the situation immediately. He had retrieved one of his that he had worn as a child. While Damian had initially scoffed at the gift, Grayson’s insistence that, “No prince of Gotham should be without one.” and “It’s only until we get one your size made, then you can do whatever you want with it.” had convinced him to take it. 

Even after he’d had one made it was still Damian’s favorite. Every time he wore it Grayson smiled, and more often than not it convinced the man to stop and linger with Damian. Not that Damian needed the attention. He’d simply enjoyed it. 

And he had ruined that today by injuring Drake. Worse, he’d failed in his redemption. The burned woman had been right. No army was coming for Damian. He doubted even a single one of his brothers would care to look for him. 

The tears he’d been blinking back came back with force and Damian allowed a few to fall. Not because he was weak, but because he was sure if he could do nothing for himself he would die here. And no one would care.


	5. Find Creature

Dick left with two guards by his side and one of Damian’s bracelets glittering in his hand. It held a soft glow from Alfred’s find creature spell, designed to direct him towards Damian’s general location.

Bruce had not been able to pull himself away from state events, they had outside visitors that required his attention. Still he directed Dick to update Alfred as soon as he found anything out, and let him know he’d be waiting on updates himself. Dick knew if he could, Bruce would have joined him in the search for his youngest.  Otherwise, Dick hadn’t been able to convince anyone else to go with him, and Damian hadn’t returned on his own so Dick set out with a heavy weight on his chest.

He was sick with worry. He’d left his youngest brother to fend for his own, scared him off, and then topped off his treatment by leaving him out in these woods almost until nightfall. It wasn’t his fault it had taken so long to get ready, but he didn’t care. Every single second was vital to getting his brother back.

Dick took the lead as they quested, following the spelled bracelet through the forest. He was constantly doubling back and having to stop to see if the glow was going to fade or grow stronger. It was a bit like following a faulty compass that kept turning him around, but Dick trusted it. Alfred had never steered him wrong, and he doubted the man had now.

Perhaps they were moving Damian around or his brother was wandering on his own. Dick wasn’t sure what it was, but he was going to try to catch up no matter what. He felt like he was making progress at least, as they pushed deeper into the woods.

Dick couldn’t stop thinking about Damian as they searched. When he found his brother, and he would find him, he’d change things. He’d do his best to bring Damian into the family in a better way, to spend time with the kid, and to really make him feel like he was loved. He was his little brother after all, and Dick had a sudden protective streak in him, not unlike what he’d felt when Tim was hurt earlier.

It was his fault Tim had been hurt. If Dick hadn’t ignored Damian for almost the entire time he’d been there then his brother would feel more at home, and might not have been so riled up by Tim’s pressing. And now whatever had happened to Damian was Dick’s fault too. It was his job as the oldest to make sure his brother felt like part of the family, that he felt safe and wanted. Dick had failed in that and Damian had run off to who knew where.

They pushed on until late into the night. Dick wanted to keep moving, but he’d passed this same tree three times now and even the guards had noticed. They were exhausted, even if they wouldn’t complain. Dick didn’t blame them, they didn’t have the same driving terror he had. They were there to keep him safe and protect Damian when they found him, but they weren’t looking for family, just their charge.

He pushed on for another hour, passing the tree again. Dick groaned, the bracelet was still glowing strong, the spell strong enough to last at least a day, if not more.

“Wait here.” he said, “I’m going to scout ahead just a bit and I’ll be right back.”

What he was going to do was technically a scout, but it was more of a test. He didn’t doubt Alfred’s spell, but he doubted the forest. There was nothing off about the trees or animals, he would have sensed that. Still, there was something wrong, and he was going to figure it out.

“We aren’t supposed to leave you alone.” one of his guards, a young man named Erikson, said.

Dick smiled at him, “I’ll be fine, I'm only going far enough to still shout if I need help. If I’m not back feel free to follow me in twenty minutes okay?”

Geoffrey nodded, “Don’t be too late.”

Dick left them as they let their packs drop and one of them leaned against the tree Dick had been passing.

He followed the glow of the bracelet carefully. He moved with intention focusing only on the glow and not on the forest around him. He was so focused on it, that he stumbled right into Geoffrey’s back, startling both guards and himself.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t looking up.” Dick said, reaching out to help the man keep his balance.

Erikson looked from both of them to the trees, “Where did you come from?”

Dick frowned, “There’s something wrong, the spell keeps taking me in circles around this tree.”

“Is there a problem with the spell?” Erikson asked.

Dick shook his head, “I don’t think so. It’s supposed to point me towards Damian, and unless the tree is my brother I’m afraid something might be messing with it.”

“Like magic?” Geoffrey asked, “I’ve heard witches wander these woods, skirting just close enough to the castle to be dangerous, but far enough that most patrols don’t run into them.”

Dick frowned, “Why have I not been informed of this before?”

Geoffrey shifted, “They haven’t caused trouble. They tend to keep mostly to themselves from what I've heard. If you run into them it's because you've run afoul of them.”

“Can you show me their general location on the map?” Dick said.

Geoffrey agreed. They laid the map out on a bolder and Dick’s frown only grew as Geoffrey marked each place. Erikson filled in where the other man left off and soon they had what could be a line of sightings. The path matched the path of poaching almost identically. Either the poachers were working with the witches, or they were one in the same. Meaning Damian was in more danger than Dick had realized.

“In the future any news like this is to be reported, rumor or not.” Dick said, trying to keep his voice even. It was not the fault of either of the men with him, it was a hole in the way they did things that he was going to take care of the moment they returned home.

“Right.” Erikson said, then added, “My prince?”

“Hm?” Dick asked.

“The air is sparking.”

He was right, the air was alive with electricity, crackling and popping as light danced through it, called there by Dick's own lightning storm of emotions. Dick blinked, and worked to calm himself down. The air around him stilled as he buried his anger and frustration. As a kid he’d had to be even more careful about his emotions than he was now, a tantrum would cause a thunderstorm that rained hail and split trees. Deep sadness would call steady rain that flooded streets. The older he’d gotten the more handle he had on his emotions calling out to the weather, but from time to time it still happened, on a less grand scale.

“Sorry.” he smiled, “I’m just worried about Damian.”

Erikson nodded, giving him a smile of his own, “We’ll find him.”

They decided to camp for the night, planning to sleep on the problem of the strange circular magic and solve it in the morning. Dick was afraid the witches' magic might be interfering with Alfred’s spell. If so, they might have to follow just the map in the morning. The night was chilly so they lit a small fire as they rolled out bedrolls to sleep around it.

Dick updated Alfred on their progress over his speaking stone while Geoffrey put together a very quick meal of warmed biscuits and jerky. Alfred agreed with Dick’s theory that there might be warring magics at work and an alternate solution might be found. He promised to update Alfred again the next day.

They ate and then laid down to keep watch in shifts. If witches roamed the forest it didn’t hurt to be on alert, and if Damian were to move past them Dick wanted someone to be awake to call out to him.

Erikson took the first watch. Dick should have, for all the sleep he got. He lay on the ground, breathing in the scent of dirt and fresh greenery and worrying about Damian. Dick closed his eyes and tried to sleep, but visions of his brother mauled or cut to pieces flickered behind his eyelids instead of the flicker of firelight fading to sleep.

_This way._

The breeze tickled blades of grass against his ear. The whisper of words flickering in time with it.

_He went this way._

Dick could feel the prompting, feel the grass pushing in a direction to the left of where he lay. It was insistent. Pressing against his senses and begging him to follow it’s leading. Dick felt bad, he hadn’t asked the forest to guide him yet, which meant the forest had felt his fear and guilt and had been moved to help on it's own.

He waited through Erikson's watch then Geoffrey’s (the man would not take no for an answer). Then waited until the man was asleep before he collected anything important he’d need and slipped away taking Revia with him as to follow the forest’s whispers.


	6. Staggering Smite

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick warning, this chapter does contain some violence not typical to my fics, and Damian's quite traumatized because of it. I apologize in advance.

At some point Damian fell asleep. He’d laid so long trying not to move that his body finally gave into exhaustion. It was a restless, uncomfortable sleep filled with itchy feelings and images of all his scales being pulled out and never growing back, of Grayson's angry face, and Drake's shocked eyes at Damian's bite. He woke back up as light came flickering in through a window Damian hadn’t noticed the day before. The sun was just rising, pouring soft light into the room. 

Sleep hadn't done him much good, not the uneasy sleep he'd had anyway. Maybe if it had been deep and comfortable. Or if he'd been home, maybe then it would have helped. As it was he felt little better than he'd when sleep had come over him. He was stiff, his entire body an ache that felt a bit like he’d been blistered by ice. Movement broke that feeling, relighting aches and sharp pain, dimmer this time but still there. Damian shifted and his stomach grumbled at him, one more problem added to the hundred others he had.

One of the witches was already awake, moving around the room with purpose as she collected ingredients in a bowl. Damian realized, watching her, that he hadn’t seen the third one for most of the previous day. She’d left the shack at one point and he had not caught her return.

He frowned, her being gone could be because of a number of reasons. He remembered her taking a large sack that clinked and jingled as she'd left, perhaps potions to drop off or sell? He would be sure to keep track of the number of women in the shack when he attempted his escape. He could not be caught unaware again.

The thought of escaping made Burned Woman’s words come back to him again curling like poison in his stomach. Even if he escaped where would he go? He had failed his redemption, and had little chance of stopping these women alone trapped in just his dragon form. He was skilled, but she had been right, he was outnumbered. He could not go back to Mother, not as he was now. Beaten and bruised and under a spell he had no idea of how to break. And Father? Well Father did not want him. Not if witches even knew of how he was scorned. Father would especially not want him now that he had injured one of the children he loved.

So then, what was the point other than fighting? Did he need any reason beyond that? The fire in his belly told him he didn’t. If he could escape, perhaps then he could find some way of redeeming himself and being allowed back home.

“Girls! Giiiiirls!” the screech came as the door to the shack burst open and witch number three strolled in.

The witch at the fire stood straight, and the second door opened as Burned Woman came back in.

“What?” she snapped.

“We’ve got an order, a big one. Fire protection spell for a whole manor in Metropolis.”

Burned Woman scowled, “We don’t have half of what we need for that spell.”

“Fool, of course we do.” the first woman said, pointing a wooden spoon in Damian’s direction. “He’s right there.”

Damian found himself pressing against the back of the cage before forcing himself to scoot forward again to glare.

All eyes turned to him and Damian spit flames, “Do not touch me again.” his threat fell on deaf ears as all three women began to talk at once.

The room erupted in chaos. The three women ran around collecting other ingredients and trying not to trip over each other while they moved. The pot was hauled outside and dumped out then returned. The whole time the air was abuzz the women argued.

“I wanted him alive longer.”

“He doesn’t have to die, we only need a few pieces, he’ll be fine without them.”

“It may be easier to kill him now, the little brat’s too difficult to keep around.”

“We can’t keep harvesting scales if we kill him now.”

“Those scales are in high demand, in a year we could have a full set of armor created from them.”

“If we had that we’d never have to sell another potion again.”

“It’s settled, we’ll take a wing and leave him alive.”

Damian’s blood ran cold with the last declaration. They wouldn’t. They couldn’t. He could not live without a wing. He was a dragon. A dragon’s life was in their wings. It was like suggesting they take his head and expect him to live, or snuff his fire. He would not be able to fly. To hunt. To even balance properly. He had to go. The moment one of them reached for him again he was making his escape. He couldn’t risk letting them keep their hands on him. Not if he ever wanted to face his mother again. Not if he ever wanted to use his dragon form again.

Damian prepped himself, stretching as casually as he could. He focused on growing his fire in his stomach breathing in deep breaths of air to stoke it so he could produce a strong flame that would do more than blister and surprise.

The first witch approached him, attentive where her companion had been lazy. It was fine, Damian was prepared. The moment the door opened Damian slipped out, under her grabbing hand, and dropped to the ground, flame ready in his throat for defense when he needed it.

He scurried across the floor, darting between feet and legs to trip the women up, angling for the door. He was too short to really reach it, but he could climb and turn the knob easily. He did, turning to spit fire behind him to give him a few seconds of protection.

The knob didn’t turn, and the door didn’t open. The lock was turned firmly in place.

Before Damian could unlock the door and make his escape he was grabbed again. Terror raced through him, shorting out sense in exchange for panicked flailing. He jerked, biting at the hand closest to him and drawing blood. This was one bite he would not regret.

The hand dropped him, only for a foot to come down on his back. It slammed into him, shoving the air from his lungs, and making something in one of his wings pop as both were pushed down painfully. He was pinned to the ground, squished so to make breathing hard. Not that that stopped him, he screamed with fury before a hand grabbed his neck, holding his head in place as a leather muzzle was dragged over his face.

Damian jerked, yanking his head back and forth until the foot on his back pressed harder making him gasp, his vision starting to spot. The muzzle was strapped in place and he was yanked up by it.

“Brat.” Burned Woman hissed at him.

Damian took no small amount of satisfaction from it being her he’d bitten. He grinned at her and made a swipe for her arm with his claws, but she grabbed them with her other hand, scooping his arms and legs together. He hissed at her, and spat curses as he was carried across the room. He was dumped back onto the table and strapped in place. Panic was rising again in his chest, but the straps had been pulled tighter than the day before and he could hardly move. His tail flapped where it could, his head flinging from side to side.

Muzzle or not he could still build a flame, and he sucked in enough air to do that. Before he could burn the arm reaching for his wings another hand reached out and dragged one up, yanking it painfully out from under the strap and pulling it taught.

Damian tried his best to jerk it out of the grip but the fingers tightened to almost breaking strength. Then fire screamed across his back. Repetitive, eternal fire. His mind whited out and he knew he was screaming, puffs of sickly black smoke escaped him as pain took over. He wanted to throw up. He might have thrown up. He wasn’t sure, and didn’t care. Acid flooded his throat fighting with the cloying smoke and his stomach felt like ice water had been poured into it, rushing and spinning with the agony racing from his back. His claws dug at the table beneath him in an attempt to drag himself away from the blade and the pain and the burning agony. 

The blade sawed away at scale and flesh and bone felt and like it was sawing and sawing and sawing for an eternity. There was a grunt of frustration and Damian felt a pause in the agony, a stilling of metal against bone. Then a hand pressed into to his back, and he felt the heat of the witch lean over him before his wing was twisted and jerked. Something snapped, the renewed pain tearing another scream from his abused throat.

And then it was over, his head was light, his back was lighter still. Damian's face was drenched with tears. He could still feel something where the wing had been, a stump of flesh and bone where the joints had met. With each hitch and broken breath that came from Damian, the little stub jerked as if it were trying to raise a wing that was no longer there. 

He hiccuped out a sob.

Both straps loosened and Damian curled in on himself, his remaining wing fluttering and straining in vain to try and cover whatever was left of the other one. 

Burned Woman leaned down to leer at him, “Not so tough now are we?”

His fire was immediate. Every second of pain and terror and agony flowed out of him in the largest, most steady burst of flame he’d ever conjured, sending the woman careening back, screaming with pain as flames licked her face, catching against her hair and the twigs that had been woven into it.

She slapped her hands at her face, screaming and flailing until the third woman dumped water on her, quenching the flame in a fog.

“Kill him.” the woman hissed, her voice hoarse, “Kill him before I render all his parts useless.”

The first woman grabbed Damian. Every movement was agony and he couldn’t fight as he was flipped onto his back and shoved against the wood. The straps forgotten now as she shackled him arms and legs to the table, his open wound screaming with every movement. The woman then turned to pick up a blade, already dripping crimson. 

"Too bad," she said, running an a finger across the much softer scales protecting his underside, her finger tracing an X over his heart, "We could have lived like queens with mail made of your scales."  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No one ever expects major limb loss ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	7. Thunder Step

Dick let the trees point him in the right direction and the plants pull Revia back on track when he veered. The voice of the forest was a constant whisper against his ears now.

_Go this way._

_The child fell here._

_They took him this way._

The suggestion that he’d been taken worsened the worry Dick felt. He’d considered waiting for the men he’d come with, but instead asked the forest to guide them in his tracks.

All Dick wanted was to find his brother whole and alive and relatively unhurt. If he wasn’t? Dick wasn’t sure how he’d react. He was already mad enough at himself the air was still crackling and heavy. He ignored it, letting his emotions flow around him.

He stopped suddenly, something pressing against him. His brain said don’t go here. The trees pointed forwards. Dick climbed off Revia and turned, moving to walk away.

Flowers tangled around his ankles and tried to turn him back around, the trees swayed to keep him from going the wrong way. Dick frowned.

“What is it?”

_Magic. Lies. Illusion._

Dick frowned and grit his teeth. He turned himself and Revia back around towards the spelled area and urged her forward. Damian. He had to get to Damian. No matter what. He chanted that in his head as the magic tried to turn him back again. Damian. Dick thought, and looked down at the bracelet he was still carrying, it was flaring brightly.

He pushed, breaking through an invisible barrier and suddenly the press of magic stopped. The forest pointed him forward and Dick hurried. He was getting close and he couldn’t, couldn’t fail.

He came to a shack of moderate size. Magic symbols were drawn on the pillars holding it up, and drying bunches of herbs hung from the front. Dick stormed forward, worry butterflying in his stomach, his heart trying to climb up his throat. He tethered his horse to a low limb before moving to the building.

Damian’s bracelet was bright now, as bright as Alfred told him it would get when he found his brother. Dick pocketed it and kicked the door open.

The wood splintered and the door slammed open. Three women’s attention turned to him, they ranged from young to old, but all wore tattered dresses and herbs woven through their hair. One had fresh, bright, burns on her face, looking eagerly towards another woman. The object of her attention held a knife poised in the air, and Dick’s attention followed it down to his brother, chained to a bloody table. 

Damian let out a whimper.

That was the only noise Dick heard before rage took over. The knife in the woman’s hand bloomed, the dead wood of the handle coming back to life as branches sprouted from it. They budded, bright green bulbs that burst into flowers at the ends of each branch.

The woman dropped the knife with a start. Thunder rumbled in the room, a cloud forming against the thatched roof. Lightning crackled, arching down to strike her in the chest and send her falling backwards.

The other two burst into action, one’s voice screaming with power, the other pulling at the herbs in her hair. Dick discounted both attempts at magic, instead directing another lightning strike between them, ozone busting bright and sharp in the air as both women dove apart to escape the attack.

Dick was in the shack the next moment, calling more lightning to his hand. Electricity flickered and wove between his fingers as he pulled one of his escarma sticks from his hip. Technically he wasn’t supposed to use them outside of the mask, but he’d felt that he might need them during his search, and it turned out he was correct. He pulled the electricity across the stick coating it in sparking snapping lighting and swung at the woman lunging towards him. It caught her in the side, the collected electricity stunning her and forcing her to drop to the ground.

Dick spun on the second woman, already attempting to chant another spell and threw the stick. She tried to dodge, but the escarma caught her thigh sending her down as well. He asked the roots below the building to rise up and bind all three women, gagging them as well so he didn’t have to worry about spells if they woke before he left. The wood of the floor buckled and cracked as the roots did his bidding, eager and strong as they fed off the fury coursing through Dick's veins. He watched as they coiled around the unconscious women, forming bonds of living wood. When he was sure they were secure Dick leaned down and brushed his hand along one of the roots, thanking it and asking them to hold firm until he sent others along to take the women away. 

He stood, and turned back to Damian then. Dick wasn’t sure Damian had even noticed his arrival or the brief fight that had taken place. Quiet sobs still echoed through the room as he took the few steps he needed to reach his baby brother. Damian was on his back, shackled in place by shiny metal cuffs. A muzzle had been dragged over his face like he was some kind of dog that needed discipline. It was that Dick turned his attention to first, fingers rushing to pulled it off, the sight making his stomach turn. He threw it to the ground and cupped his brother's face in his hands.

“Hey, hey.” he said, brushing his thumb across Damian’s cheek, “It’s okay, I’m here.”

Damian sucked in a sob, green eyes locking onto him. He blinked, his brain registering the change in companions.

“No!” he yelled, “No, Grayson you’ve got to, you have go. They’ll take you too. They’re witches, they'll want you for your magic!” he shouted, jerking against the chains and pulling his head out of Dick's hands.

The movement sparked pain from an unknown source that made Damian scream, cutting off his panicked pleas. Damian sucked in air, and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, high whimpers escaping his chest only to be cut off as he tried to calm down.

The cloud formed again in the shack, the room shaking with more thunder. Dick had to calm himself down again to still sparks in the air.

“It’s okay.” Dick said, keeping his tone gentle, “It’s okay. I took care of them already.”

Damian didn’t seem to hear him, he’d regained his composure and started babbling again, his words a jumble as Dick guessed he was still trying to warn him. Dick didn’t think he was going to convince his brother he was safe until he got him off that table.

He reached for the shackles, the moment his fingers brushed them they burned. Dick jerked his hand back, shaking it. Iron. They’d put him in iron shackles. No wonder Damian was so worried about Dick getting out of there.

Now that he was closer to his brother, Dick noticed patches of scales missing from his side, the spots making out ugly splotches of red skin that was swollen against other scales. The pool of blood on the table was growing larger, and faster as Damian continued to struggle. Dick wasn’t sure he wanted to know the source, but he was going to find out either way.

“Hey, kiddo. Look at me.” Dick said, catching his brother’s head in his hands, “Look at me, Damian.”

Damian froze staring at him. His chest heaved as he sucked in shallow panicked breaths.

“Listen, those shackles look like they might break if you gave it a shot. Can you change? I bet they’d snap if you did.”

His brother’s whole body shuddered, “I can’t.” he said, his voice tiny, hardly a breath on the air.

Dick frowned at him, “I know it’s tough when your hurting, but if you could try?”

Damian shook his head, still in Dick’s hands, “No I can’t. They did something. Gave me something, I can’t I don’t know if I’ll ever...I--” he broke off, his voice cracking.

“Okay.” Dick said, “Okay, that’s fine. I’ll get the key.”

“No!” Damian cried, “Your hands will burn.”

Dick shot him a grin, already moving to search the building and women for the key. “I’ll be fine.”

He found it tossed into a ceramic bowl containing glittering scales. Damian’s scales. A bronze wing rested beside the bowl, catching Dick’s attention. His stomach twisted with worry. It couldn’t be Damian’s. He didn’t want it to be Damian’s. That would be too much, too much for the kid to endure over a mistake. He tried to think of if he’d noticed both wings on Damian, but the kid had been squirming so much, and Dick worried about getting him out, he hadn’t even thought to look. Hadn’t even assumed the blood would be from anything other than a wound.

Dick wished he hadn’t taken the women out so quickly or that they’d put up more of a fight so he could have taken out some of the anger still simmering within him. Lightning flickered overhead. He pulled his sleeve down over his hand to pull the key out.

It numbed the burn slightly so that Dick could hurry over to Damian and unlock each shackle. When he was done he let the key clatter to the ground, gently lifting Damian from the table. His brother gasped, the sharp inhale turning into a broken cry.

Dick saw the reason as soon as he got Damian off the table. One of his wings was gone. The remainder was little more than a ragged stump that jerked like it was trying to move a limb that wasn’t there. That one on the other table had been Damian’s. Dick’s stomach turned and he had to swallow back bile, bitter and burning in his throat. His brother had beautiful wings, had boasted of them many times and to see this done to him? It made him sick. 

“Damian.” he said, his own voice cracking.

“Don’t.” His brother wouldn’t look at him, instead squirmed to be let go.

Dick nodded, setting Damian down and watching as he attempted to stand on his own. He wobbled, but seemed to find his footing after a moment. Still, Dick could see his body shuddering just standing there. Dick’s eyes flicked back over to the other table.

“Give me a second.” he said.

He stepped away and turned back to where they wing lay. He lifted it, and found it still ever so slightly warm to the touch. His heart ached for his brother, for everything that had happened. If only things had gone differently. If he’d just been a little faster. But what was done was done, and all he could do now was try to fix it.

Dick wrapped the wing in a handkerchief, gently folding the fabric over it, before slipping it into his bag. After a second thought he scooped the scales into it as well. He didn’t want anyone else thinking they could take his brother’s scales.

When he returned Damian was focused on his injury. Hand reaching back to learn the extent of what had happened to him. Seeing him standing, Dick realized he’d lost a lot more scales than he’d first noticed. There was a large bare patch running along Damian’s back, bloody and swollen. He wasn’t sure if the blood was from the loss of scales or the wing.

His brother was a mess. All Dick wanted to do was clean the blood off Damian and give him proper medical treatment. He wasn’t prepared for major injuries. The best he had was gauze and a salve Leslie had given him for emergencies.

Dick took both out from his bag and set them on the table, “Let’s get you fixed up as best as we can before heading out. I don’t want you to bleed out before we get home.” he said, pulling the stopper on the salve and dug his fingers in.

Damian eyed him but nodded, and shifted to give himself a more stable stance for Dick to work on.

“This is going to hurt, but it will slow the bleeding until we can figure something else out.” Dick warned a second before rubbing it over the bits of flesh, bone, and cartilage, still jerking on Damian’s back.

His brother let out a high screech and jerked back. He stumbled, falling back to sit in a shaking pile.

“Sorry.” Dick winced, reaching forward, to finish dabbing the salve on even gentler than he'd been to start, “I’m so sorry.”

He unrolled the gauze and managed to coaxed Damian forward again to wrap the wound as best as he could, tucking the end under itself in place of any other sealant.

He unclasped his cape from his back and wrapped Damian in it, both for warmth and to help protect him as best as he could from further harm as he carried him. Then without asking Damian, he lifted him and clutched him close.

The fact that Damian didn’t argue was worrying enough, the fact that he wasn’t actually crying was really sending fear through Dick’s chest. He might be in shock, or still just trying to figure things out. Whatever the case, he had to get his brother home.

Dick carried Damian outside, and felt his tunic tugged lightly. He glanced down to see a little hand clutching at his shirt, claws wrapped in the fabric as Damian pressed his face close.

“It’s okay.” Dick said, feeling like that’s all he was going to say for a long time, “We’re going home.”

Smoke puffed against his chest and drifted upwards as Damian’s response.

He shifted Damian into one arm as he untied the Revia’s reigns and climbed on her back, soothing her with soft words as she shifted uneasily with Damian there. Horses were skittish around Damian even in his human form. As a dragon he tended to scare them off, even small as he was. It took a few moments of Dick whispering to Revia to calm her, and after a few more she allowed Dick to climb onto her back with Damian cradled in an arm. Her first steps were hesitant before she found her confidence again, and moved into a steady trot.

They made it about five minutes before there was a push at Dick’s chest, and Damian began squirming in the cape, pushing to get out of it. A string of muttered “Nos” and “Release me, Graysons” came from the bundle that was Damian, hoarse and tired sounding but still firm.

Dick tightened his grip as much as he could to both not hurt him, and keep him from tumbling out of his arms, even as he fought. “Damian what’s wrong?”

“Let me go!”

Dick pulled Revia to a stop, all his attention on the squirming dragonling in his arms, “Stop it, why do you want me to let go? Is the cape hurting you?”

“No.” the word was decisive, “I cannot go back.”

“Damian.”

“I cannot return to Father.” Damian wasn’t looking at him, he’d managed to turn himself so he could look out at the forest.

Dick pressed his lips together, “Do you want to go back to your mom?”

“No.” if his last declaration had seemed sure, this was rock solid, “I would only bring shame on Mother with my failure. I have already brought it on Father.”

“Dames.” Dick sighed.

Damian shuddered in his arms, seeming coiled, as if he were about to try to jump from the safety of the cape and Dick’s arms to disappear into the trees, “Let me go, I told you I cannot return. I’ve failed twice now, I have to fix it. I have to--”

“What are you going to do?” Dick snapped, he could feel Damian’s flinch at his words. He cold feel every movement the kid made, he was tense now, no longer coiled, but more afraid. A slight tremor seemed to run through him, Dick wondered if Damian even realized he was shaking.

He wanted to pull him closer and soothe him, but he couldn’t let Damian keep thinking on the wrong track, “Are you planning to avenge yourself? You can’t even walk. Five minutes out there and you're dead. I didn’t come all the way out here to let you die.”

“Why did you come?” Damian shifted to look up at him now, his green eyes glittering with worry, his tone quiet in the face of Dick’s almost shout, uncertain of wanting an answer.

Now, Dick tugged him closer, pressing his forehead to Damian’s “Because your my baby brother, no matter how annoying you can be, and because family sticks together.”

Damian stilled at that, slumping against Dick’s chest.

“If you want to talk about regaining your honor or making up for biting Tim we can talk about that at home,” Dick said, keeping his voice gentle, “I for one, think you’ve been punished enough. Far too much for anything you’ve done.”

Damian nodded, one of his horns rubbing lightly against Dick’s ribs. He jerked a second later, and made a hissing sound as his full wing pulled against the fabric of Dick’s cape.

“Does it hurt terribly?” Dick asked, the question a whisper.

“I can handle it.”

Dick’s groan was one of irritation, not at Damian but at Talia. Talia, who all Dick had ever heard about was a mother who’d pushed Damian to do more than he should have and had put him in dangerous situation after dangerous situation. Who asked him to handle things like lost limbs and demanded he regain honor that wasn’t even lost.

“Hold on. I might have something to help dull it a bit more.”

He held Damian steady with one arm while he dug around in his patch for the root he was thinking of. Instead his fingers brushed across the bottle Barbara had given him. It hit him like his own lightning did when it backfired, shocking and making him feel stupid. This was it. This was the situation she’d told him about.

“Damian, drink this.” Dick said pulling the small bottle out of the bag of holding. “Barbara gave it to me.”

“Oracle?” Damian asked, “Did she foresee this event?”

“She saw something bad happening that I needed a potion for.” Dick said, “She didn’t really have anything else to add, only that I’d know the time. This feels right.”

Dick unstopped the bottle and gave it to Damian who shifted to sit up enough to take it, pouring the contents in his mouth. They both waited a few seconds.

“My wing is still gone and my back is still aflame.” Bitter disappointment lingered in Damian’s tone.

“Maybe it did something else. You said they gave you something that forced you into staying a dragon, maybe you can change again? Surely that will help the pain?”

Damian nodded. Dick watched him close his eyes and focus. He knew his kid brother had trouble changing if he was in too much pain, but he also knew Damian could override that if he needed to. Stubbornness ran strong in Waynes.

It took a few seconds, but the dragon in his arms shifted at last, turning into a boy. Suddenly he was taking up far too much space against the horse’s neck, causing Revia to whinny and shuffle her feet. Dick moved, pulling Damian closer, so he was pressed up against his chest, one hand tangling in his brother’s dark sweaty hair.

“I got you.” he said, as Damian shuddered, “I got you.”

Damian didn’t say anything else, he just clutched at Dick’s chest with one hand and and breathed, deep, even breaths in and out. He was shaking, shuddering. No sobs caught his chest or filled the air.

Dick would have been a mess if it were him, red face, puffy eyes, and crying so hard he forgot where he was. Damian was the opposite, silent as he leaned against Dick’s chest, only showing the pain in the occasional sharp intake of breath, and the way his entire body was shuddering. Dick guessed that if Damian had the ability to make himself sit perfectly still he would. All in an attempt to deal with it. To be as okay as someone could be after what he’d been through. To force himself fine.

Dick was going to kill Talia. No kid should be raised to know how to deal with something like this. No kid should be told he couldn’t cry or show emotions over an injury. Especially after everything that had happened to him since he’d been taken.

Damian shifted, making the cape slip down his back. A line of blood had started to stain his tunic, from where the wound had shifted when he’d changed. Dick only had a second to wonder how losing a wing would affect Damian’s human form before he saw it. Damian’s arm hung oddly. Dick’s eyes traced the oddness up and to his shoulder, and then further to where his collarbone would be, only there was an odd depression there. Like the bone had stopped existing.

“I’m going to make sure this isn’t bleeding too bad.” Dick said, before tugging Damian’s tunic up and over one arm so he wouldn’t have to hold it while he examined the damage.

He had a long ugly cut down his shoulder, already red and swelling. Still it was an improvement from the nasty jagged mess Damian had as a dragon. The blood here was sluggish and in no hurry to flee, possibly helped by the ointment Dick had used earlier. The depression was revealed to be just that. A spot in his skin where his collarbone had been, but wasn’t anymore. Dick didn’t have to wonder why Damian was holding on with one hand. He had no idea what the consequences of losing a bone were, but they couldn’t be good. He had no idea how any of it really worked, only that it did and Damian was still shuddering.

Dick gently tugged the tunic back down and wrapped Damian in the cape again, tucking the corners under his chin, “It’s okay.” he whispered, “We’re going to fix this.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know that I've had this fic listed as having 9 chapters, but I've been doing some re-writing of stuff to come and that number will probably grow to about 10 at some point. I'm not changing it until I'm done re-writing stuff though, just in case I decide not to. I'm giving you guys a fair warning so no one is surprised next week if the number changes lol.


	8. Aura of Healing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So my re-writing got out of hand, and I am currently uncertain how many more chapters we have to go between this and the last one, which is good news for you guys and confusing news for my brain. Hopefully I'll have all my re-writing done by the next chapter and I'll have a final chapter count for everyone.

Damian did not want to admit it, but the ride back to the castle would have been unbearable if he had been alone. Scenes came in and out of focus as he lay pressed against his brother, focusing on staying conscious and breathing. He felt numb and exhausted after everything.

His back still hurt, not as much as as it had in his dragon form, but it was not pleasant either. Movement on his right side was difficult, and not worth the effort to bother moving or lifting his arm. He could not bring himself to sob or build fury at the injustice of it all.

He blinked into focus as Grayson shifted him gently, pulling him forward so he could slip a green stone from under his tunic. Damian flopped forward again, fingers finding fabric to tangle in, as his brother’s voice came in and out of focus as he spoke to someone. The words were quiet, as if Grayson did not want Damian to hear, and so he did not bother to listen, turning his head to gaze out at the trees slowly passing by.

Some branches swayed as if to lean towards them as they moved. Leaves rustled and old wood creaked, sensing the tension within the elf passing through. Damian closed his eyes and listened to the almost whispers and the repetitive crunch and plop of Revia’s hooves against the ground. He drifted, not quite falling asleep, and not quite conscious for a while. Sometimes his mind was quiet, and others it roared a thousand regrets and worries thundering within. His chest caught with an ache, a sharp stabbing pain, and he swallowed back a sob. He would not break down in front of Grayson. He would not fall apart when he had already been brought so low. Why destroy the last good thing he had by showing weakness in this moment?

He sucked in air and buried his face in Grayson’s tunic again, and pulling his brother’s cape closer around himself with his good hand while tuning out the green of the forest. The next moment they slowed to a stop, and the pain returned to his chest in a fluttering panic that even that small movement had been the final straw. Then two voices rang out, Grayson’s answering and Damian allowed himself to breathe.

He listened now, as Grayson directed palace guards back to the witches. As he explained how best to detain them and have them brought into the city to face judgment for their crimes. Through the conversation, Grayson’s arm on Damian’s back tightened, tugging him closer.

When they started to move again, Damian felt Grayson lean down and plant a kiss in his hair, “It’ll be alright.” he said, an attempt to soothe in response to what? Damian did not know what he had done to prompt the words or moment of tenderness. He was not sure Grayson knew.

A question would not leave him alone. It floated in his mind behind the numbness. Behind the the buzzing panic that raged in his head at losing a wing. Behind the never ending loop of: _He’d lost a wing. It was gone. They’d taken it from him. He’d never fly, never hunt properly again, never be allowed back to see his mother, he’d never, he’d never…_

It rested in the back of his mind almost as insistent. Why? Why had Grayson come for him? Why was the man so gentle with him? So comforting in the face of his ultimate shame? Why had he been told that all was well, that he could return home? What had Damian done to deserve any of this?

It wasn’t as if Grayson had not been gentle before. He had his moments of kindness, of interest in Damian. He had given him the circlet (and oh how Damian prayed the man did not notice it’s absence). Damian watched him with Drake and Todd, and Cain. He had seen the man’s kindness with anyone he had met. Yet he had never expected it to be turned on Damian himself in such force. It was all encompassing, as if Damian had now been pulled into the bubble of warmth that was Richard Grayson’s life, and he had no choice but to accept it.

He only wished he knew why. Was it pity? But it was not pity Damian saw in the man’s eyes. Compassion yes, but fury burned there. Bright and angry, lighting the blue with sparks Damian was sure Grayson wasn’t aware of. And yet, not a bit of it was directed at Damian.

The man was an enigma.

 

Father was first to meet them when they approached the castle, followed closely by Pennyworth and Healer Thompkins. Damian found himself transferred directly from Grayson’s arms to Father’s as his brother moved to climb off his horse.

If Grayson was a comforting warmth, Father was all encompassing. Somehow the hold was both gentle and firm. Like he was holding onto Damian with everything in him, while also treating him as if he were glass a hair's breadth away from shattering.

“You’re okay.” Father’s voice was a breath of relief against his ear, before he repeated the sentiment, “You’re okay.”

Damian’s breath hitched against his will. Father had not sent him away the moment he had returned. Some part of Damian had been sure that Grayson’s grace was all he would receive. That Father was still furious with him over Drake. That his banishment would be set in stone when he returned. He was glad to be wrong.

One of Father’s hands found his head, petting his hair with a gentle stroke, “Let’s get you inside.” he murmured.

Damian pressed closer to his father, smearing wet against his cheek. He was crying? His chest caught again, and his face felt hot, his nose running, eyes puffy with the silent tears. When had he started crying? Now that he’d realized it he tried to stop, and only succeeded in forcing out a choked sob that shook his shoulders. He still wore Grayson’s cape and pulled it up, closer to his face to hide in. Father’s hand brushed his hair back again as they moved.

The infirmary was empty of people beyond Father, Grayson, and Healer Thompkins. Even Pennyworth had been sent away to calm the hushed whispers already flooding the castle halls.

Even those few people felt claustrophobic. Everything was still so fresh. He wanted quiet. Wanted to be alone. He didn’t want anyone around him. It felt like everyone’s eyes were glued to him, and he wasn’t even in his dragon form.

Father set him down on a cot. Damian pulled the cape tighter around himself and wished he could bury himself in it. He wished he could skip the examination and jump to sleeping. At least he wouldn't have to face explaining his shame. It was obvious from the reactions of those around him that Grayson had not yet told them of his wing, only that he needed medical attention.

Healer Thompkins looked over him in his human form first. She declared the cut in his back something not to worry about as long as he did nothing to further irritate it, but frowned over the depression where one of his collar bones had been. Damian flinched away when she went to touch it.

“Why don’t we check out your dragon form now?” Healer Thompkins suggested, pulling back.

Damian did not want to. Did not want them to see his shame. Did not want to feel the lack of wing upon his back. He glanced at his father. Damian felt sick at the thought of Father seeing him without his wing. He would be sent away. He knew it. He was little use to anyone without it, no matter how Grayson seemed to deny it currently.

“Damian?” Father prompted.

Damian did not squirm. It was not squirming to shift and shrug. Or to scoot back a little on the cot, and looking anywhere but at Father as he wished he still had Grayson’s cape to hide in.

“Come on now, we don’t have all day. I’ve got other patients to attend to, Prince Damian.” Healer Tompkins said.

“Then attend to them.” Damian mumbled.

Father crossed his arms, and Damian flinched. He had the sudden image that he’d pushed too far. That this little act of rebellion was the final straw and Damian was about to be sent away. Grayson seemed to pick up on Damian’s discomfort and stepped closer to him, putting a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently.

“I don’t understand the problem. Dick said you were hurt, and the worst of it was as a dragon.” Father said, “Whatever it is, Damian you cannot keep hiding it.”

Damian wondered if he could. If he just never changed again would his stump heal on its own and not affect him any worse than a missing bone? Would his scales grow back without him being a dragon? Or would there be complications? Issues that arose from his ignoring a major injury? He hated that he didn’t know.

He’d rarely been injured as a boy while with Mother, and when he had it was usually part of endurance training. He had to be able to deal with pain in either form, and so he was forbade changing until he’d healed. The same worked as a dragon. It was rare for him to have any kind of severe injury and even consider changing forms before it was healed. He had little idea of what would happen if he simply chose to hide it. Something told him it would not be good.

He wanted to lean into Grayson’s hand. Instead he shrugged it off and glued his eyes to the floor. Father’s boots were dusty from where he’d hurried outside to collect Damian, and had not had time to kick off the pale dirt.

“Damian.” Father said, tone sharp.

“He’s afraid.” Grayson said, his voice sudden where it had been absent, “His wing’s gone and he’s afraid you’ll send him away for it.” He reached back out for Damian, pulling him almost into a hug at his side, “Give him a little breathing room, okay?”

Damian’s throat felt tight at Grayson’s words. His eyes were watery and his cheeks aflame. He was not afraid. He wasn’t. There were certain expectations placed on him, and he had failed those by being injured as he was. He curled his hands into fists at his sides, fingers brushing against the soft fabric of the cot.

“It is fine.” he muttered.

Damian changed, shifting on the soft cot from boy into dragon and all the pain numbed by the shield of a different body came thundering back. He stumbled, vision wavering as it crashed into him. One wing flared out to catch him, the other could not. Grayson caught him, hands gentle on his body as he helped him sit back down.

Damian did not want to look at Father. He wanted to flee. To run and hide and curl in the darkest corner he could find and let his flame flicker and fade. He was useless. Worthless without the wing. He had shamed both Mother and Father. What good was a dragon that could not fly? One who could not take to the skies and demolish their enemies from above? He would not be able to defend himself properly nor hunt for himself if he ever needed it. He was little good as he was now, and not worth the breath in his lungs.

He knew he was shaking, could feel the way Grayson’s hands, still steadying him, trembled themselves. There was a beat, and movement, and then Grayson was on the table, Damian cradled in his lap, his arms warm where Damian felt cold, steady where he could not stop the tremors running through him.

Grayson’s hands were careful as he removed the gauze so Healer Thompkins could examine the wound. Damian braced himself as the last bits were pulled away, tugging at his skin where blood had dried. It felt like a piece of skin being tugged and tugged that wouldn’t come off until it did. He clenched his jaw to keep from making a sound as it finally pulled away.

Healer Thomkins gasped and Damian looked up. She’d placed a hand over her mouth in shock. Damian risked a look at his Father. He had gone pale, eyes wide on Damian’s back. Grayson’s hand’s found their way around Damian again, arms creating a warm safe space.

“Damian, I’m--” Father started.

“Apparently.” Damian interrupted, eyes focused on the tiny hairs on Grayson's arms, “Each collarbone is connected with a wing. The loss of one apparently determines the loss of the other.”

When no one spoke he added, “It makes sense, I have one body, no matter the form. If I break a bone it is broken in both forms. Wounds are lessened if I get them as a dragon and change into my human form, but return to their former size as a dragon. I do not understand everything, but that much is obvious.”

He finished his explanation to silence. Damian turned his face closer to Grayson’s arm and tried not to shrink away from the looks he knew he was getting. He hated everything about his situation.

He looked back up a moment later when Father turned to Healer Thompkins and at last got out, “Is there anything you can do?”

Healer Thompkins pursed her lips, and moved to speak, but Grayson stopped her.

“I don’t know if this will help, but I brought his wing back with me.”

Damian jerked his attention up at Grayson. Hi heart felt like it was going to stop as his brother reached down and pulled a small item wrapped in a handkerchief out of his bag. Red had started to stain a corner of the fabric, but hadn’t spread too far. He unfolded the corners and held out the small bronze wing.

Damian heard Father’s sharp inhale as if it were the prelude to a blow. Somehow his face had gone paler, his hands fisting at his sides. Damian’s back ached, with the loss, and the reminder of it. Instinct made him try to raise his lost wing as if to say, you are all wrong, here it is. Nothing rose, he only irritated the inflamed skin around the wound. Instinct was wrong. His wing rested in the palm of his brother's hand.

“I know no way of reattaching a dragon's limb, even by magic.” Healer Thompkins voice was apologetic.

Damian could have told them that. It was gone. It could not be put back like the tip of a blade broken off or sewn together like the torn seam of a garment.

“I can ease his pain while he recovers, and still the bleeding, but anything else is beyond my power.”

Father stepped forward and tilted Damian’s face up so he was looking at him. Damian saw determination in Father’s eyes, and something deeper and warm, love? Concern? It stirred something in Damian’s chest he wasn’t expecting.

“We will find a way to fix this, Damian. I’m going to contact your mother and see if there is anything she can do. Your grandfather is a living example of magic beyond what should be possible, if anyone can help it’s them.”

He pressed a kiss into Damian’s forehead and pulled away, putting a hand on Grayson’s shoulder, “I’ll update you all when I find something out.”

Healer Thompkins examination was excruciating, even with a potion that made Damian’s eyes heavy and his body slow as it eased some of the pain. He hated it. The wound had to be cleaned, broken pieces clipped away, and what could be mended fixed. All the tiny dots of injury where scales had been pulled had to be examined as well. A soothing balm was placed upon the worst spots, and he was directed to try his best not to irritate them further.

Grayson’s kept him as close as he could during the process, even when Damian was pulled out of his lap. He held one of Damian’s hands in his own for support, squeezing every so often to remind Damian he was there. Grayson’s palm had to be wrapped when Damian accidentally squeezed too hard, drawing blood with his claws.

He was too tired to attempt to walk when it was over and too tired to bother changing. Grayson offered to carry him, but Damian was tired of being seen as broken already. He would not be cradled in arms like a babe. Grayson found a compromise in settling Damian on his shoulders, where he could lounge, but leave whenever he desired.

Grayson gasped as Damian settled in, most of his body resting on one of Grayson’s shoulders, his tail drifting back, towards the other, gripping lightly to help steady him.

“What?” Damian asked, “Does my tail bother you?”

Grayson shook his head, “You’re warmer than I expected.”

Damian huffed at him, “You carried me in this form earlier.”

“I know, it’s just, your back’s not nearly as warm as your stomach.”

“Tt.” Damian rolled his eyes, “I do not carry my fire in my back, Grayson. Besides, the scales on my underside are softer, they allow more heat through, and in.”

Grayson smiled at him, “I see. You know, Damian, you’re pretty incredible.”

His human form would have blushed, and for the first time since he’d had his wing removed Damian was happy to be a dragon. Grayson could not see the heat rushing to his face.

“Tt. That is obvious.” He dropped his head onto folded arms, “Let us go find Father. I am eager to know if he has contacted Mother yet.”

Damian tried to ignore the fact that anytime they passed someone in the halls he was stared at. What was worse was when they flinched, eyes widening with horror at the stub of a wing on his back, and the patches of missing scales dotting his body. He tugged Grayson’s hair around himself, using it as a curtain to protect him from their sight. His father and brother might not have pitied him, but no one else seemed willing to extend that courtesy.

He curled closer to Grayson, his hands gripping at the strap of the speaking stone still slung around his neck, and playing with it. A woman could not stop herself from gasping at him and Damian tugged on the cord too hard, making Grayson also gasp, in pain instead of surprise.

He pulled the stone from around his neck and placed it in Damian’s hands. Smiling at him, “This way you can fiddle with it and there are no casualties.” 

Damian nodded and continued playing with the necklace, running it back and forth between his claws as they continued their search for  Father. 


	9. Aura of Life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm breaking my usual pattern here and instead of jumping to Dick's POV we're sticking with Damian's for the chapter.

Father had not been able to get a hold of Mother.

Damian attempted to meet this news with calm stoicism. He did not argue or cry or even frown. He ran the cord of the necklace through his fingers, back and forth, forth and back, stopping when he reached the stone to pull it in the opposite direction, repeating the motion.

“I’ll try again tomorrow.” Father was saying, “It’s possible she did not have her stone on her.”

Or perhaps she had heard already. Perhaps one of her spies dotting Father’s land had told her of Damian’s disgrace and she had decided she was done with him. What use did she have for a broken son? He could hear her voice as clear as if she stood before him, ‘A dragon with one wing was no child of hers’.

He worried the cord until it split under his claws.

“Sorry.” he told Grayson.

His brother reached up and rubbed the top of his head, Damian resisted the urge to lean into the comfort. “It’s fine, we can get a new cord.”

Damian stopped responding to the conversation. Not that he’d been saying much anyway. He let Father and Grayson’s words flow over and past him as if he were not even there. His chest hurt. His eyes watered. He turned the speaking stone around and around in his hands, claws clicking rhythmically against it as he tried to hold back the sea of emotions rising up to drown him.

Mother had left him. That much was obvious. She had promised, sworn, that if he needed her while he was with Father she would be available. He had not been banished from home, nor told to fend for himself. He was with Father for safety. To be protected from the chaos of assassins within Grandfather’s ranks, all intent of taking out the heir to the Al Ghul empire before he could defend himself. Mother cared.

He shifted on Grayson’s shoulder, clicking the stone in his hands faster now. Damian was only as good as his skills made him. Only as good to Mother as he could be, and now he could be nothing. So he had been left. Forgotten. Handed over to Father to be dealt with as he pleased. Another failed experiment Mother had little use for.

Grayson moved, leaving Father to continue down the halls. Air prickled at Damian’s bare patches, teasing air across the barren stump of his wing, making it tingle sharply. The potion Healer Thompkins had given him was starting to fade a little, letting all the aches and pain he’d endured the past few days return slowly. His body was tight and sore from the cramped cage and the stinging pain of scales pulled.

He was light. Too light. The familiar, comforting, weight of two wings folded against his back was gone. One still rested where it belonged, but the other? It was cold. He felt naked, exposed for the world to see. For the world to jeer and stare at and judge. He pulled Grayson’s hair again, trying his best to keep it covering him.

Grayson said something Damian missed, then the speaking stone was pulled from his distracted hands, the partially frayed cord returned a moment later. Damian began picking at the loose threads scratching and teasing the smooth blackness until it was rough and scratchy.

Pennyworth’s voice drifted in and out like waves atop a stormy sea. It was a drop in what Damian was feeling. He was drowning in a sea of unresolved emotion. He wanted to be gone. To be alone long enough to allow the sick inside him to well into tears. To let himself break. To release his hold on himself long enough that the weakness of fear and sorry could seep into himself, with no fear of judgment or being sent away.

What was Damian? Something special? Or parts to be picked and pulled, tossed and used for others purposes? Was he an anomaly sent into the world to be used with little regard for who he was? It wasn’t as if he were of any worth now. Broken in both forms. A stone around his parent’s necks, only good to weigh them down.

For some reason Grayson lifted Damian from his shoulders. Earlier he might have argued, but at the moment Damian didn’t care. He did, however, care very much when he was tossed from Grayson’s arms, flipping through the air for a moment before hitting water.

Damian sunk like the stone he’d called himself for a moment before flailing, and pushing himself upwards to tread water. He spit water from his mouth. It was lukewarm, the heat barely doing anything to pierce his scales.

“Grayson!” Damian spluttered, “Are you trying to freeze me to death? Or simply torture me further with this ice bath?”

Grayson rolled his eyes, and pushed up his sleeves, “That water is hot, Damian. I can literally see the steam coming off it.”

“Tt.” Damian said, pushing himself to the lip of the tub.

“Hold on a second while I find a brush.” Grayson turned away from him to rustle around the bathing room.

It was Damian’s own, connected to his rooms. From his place in the tub he could see fresh towels folded on shelves, and his collection of shiny, sparkly, trinkets he’d lined in one of the high windows, designed to glitter when the light hit them right. Grayson was examining a cupboard of supplies, bottles of soaps and scented oils lined the shelves. Damian resisted the urge to call out and ask Grayson to pull some of the soothing salts.

He turned his attention away from the room and hoisted himself over the edge of the tub. Whatever Grayson’s designs on him were, he was not doing it in cold water. Steam or not the water was nowhere near the temperature he preferred or even liked.

He sucked in air, stoking his flame to build it up. When he released it, it was steady and strong, brushing across the side of the tub. He was worried he might have an issue with his fire, but for once, he had little trouble creating a flame.

“Uhhh, Damian?”

Damian cut off his flame for a moment to frown at Grayson, who stood looking confused and holding a brush in one hand.

“Give me a moment.” he said.

He heated the water around him until it was delightfully hot. Steam rose in steady, even waves around him, and the water churned and bubbled, boiling comfortably. It was wonderful. Damian let himself sink into the bubbling water, keeping just afloat enough that he was mostly submerged.

He closed his eyes and breathed. The heat from the water seeped through his scales to his core. It eased the tightness in his body, and helped loosen muscles he’d held clenched for days. Damian could soak for hours.

He let himself float.

There was nothing like hot water to soothe his aches and pains. Floating in the water he could forget everything that happened to him since he’d foolishly bitten Drake. He could forget the ache that pulled across his body from his scales being plucked. He didn’t need both wings to keep him afloat in the warm water. In fact, he almost felt normal.

The hot water did it’s work, helping him relax. He was close to nodding off when Grayson hummed.

“Hey, kiddo?”

Damian’s eyes flickered open, “Grayson, you took a long time in finding a brush.” he said, pretending he had not seen the brush already.

“You looked so relaxed, I wanted to let you stay that way for a bit.” He stepped towards the tub and sat beside it, the scrape of a stool telling Damian that he’d actually sat down. “You want to let me get that blood scrubbed off?”

Damian rolled his eyes up at him, “At this point, I believe the water is too hot for you.”

Grayson reached into the tub to tug Damian a little closer to the edge. He grinned at Damian’s shocked face.

“Alfred warned me you liked your baths hot, he put a heat protection spell over me.” Grayson said.

“In that case, go ahead.”

Damian stretched out and let Grayson scrub him clean. Soaking in the hot water made it easy for Grayson to clear away the remains of plucked scales, dead skin, and dried blood. The repetitive motions of the brush were like a massage to his sore body.

It was nice. But Damian could not stop wondering. He could not stop wondering the same thing that kept raising in his mind as persistent as every other worry. Why?

Why was Grayson bothering? Why did he care? Damian was worth nothing to him. Nothing to anyone but another batch of witches who may use him to make armor and spells. He was not a dragon. Not without his wing. Not plucked and pruned as he was.

And yet Grayson had said nothing of worth. He had not pitied Damian nor had he cried over what had been done to him. He had been gentle. And kind. He had been good and everything Damian had wanted, even if he had not voiced it.

Grayson had made him feel safe. And he was still doing it. Here in this room where they were alone, he had allowed Damian to relax. He was doing work Damian himself should have done, scrubbing the blood off his body and helping him feel real again.

It was too much. Damian did not understand.

“Damian? Hey, kiddo are you okay?”

Damian could not breathe. His grip on the edge of the tub tightened. His vision blurring with tears. His chest was tight, and he gasped, releasing air he couldn’t remember sucking in.

“I—” Damian started, “I--”

He blinked hot, wet, tears. Once they started he couldn’t stop. He let sobs take him, shaking his body in the water, and his grip on the tub. He laid his head against the edge, squeezing his eyes shut as he cried.

Grayson’s hand found his head, rubbing one of his horns. His other hand pressed against Damian’s claws in their grip on the tub. He ran his thumb over Damian’s knuckles in soothing strokes, back and forth.

“It’s okay.” Grayson said, “It’s alright.”

He barely heard him as he let everything pour out of himself in gasps and sobs. Every moment of fear from being taken by the witches. Every second of doubt that he’d ever be welcomed home. Every sharp tear and cut against his flesh.

Damian fell apart. He let himself fall apart. Sobs turned to shouts and back into tears. He hated himself. He hated the witches. He hated everyone who’d already shied away from him in the hallways.

Grayson lifted him out of the water and pulled him close to his chest, wrapping tightly around him. It felt like Mother. Like when she’d shush a nightmare or warm him on freezing desert nights. Damian curled into the hold, body shaking with lingering sobs, quieter now in the closeness of someone else’s warmth.

Grayson held him with gentle hands. He whispered soothing words, soft little nothings that didn’t have to make sense, the fact that they were there was good enough. Damian stayed curled in his arms as long as it took him to calm down and his breathing to even out.

He realized belatedly that he was still soaking wet. He’d dripped water all over Grayson’s lap and tunic. Damian stood, pushing at Grayson’s chest with a squawk.

“How could you let me get you all wet?”

“I don’t mind.” Grayson said, “You needed it.”

Damian felt the tears he’d just reigned in begin to well back up. He blinked them away, then pushed himself back up, “I did not finish my bath.”

With that, he scampered out of Grayson’s hold and climbed back up the side of the tub to flop back into the water. It wasn’t quite as hot as he’d made it earlier, but it was bearable.

“Hand me the brush.” He said, reaching out.

Grayson gave him a smile, “It’s okay, I’ve got it.”

Damian allowed Grayson to continue cleaning him up. Grayson hummed something while he worked. The tune was soothing, and comforting.

“Damian?” Grayson asked, cutting off his humming.

“Hm?” Damian asked, blinking up at him, distracted by the water.

Grayson seemed careful to keep his voice gentle, “You want to talk about any of this?”

Damian dunked himself under the water for a moment, lifting his head after a second. “Why?”

The question made his brother blink at him, “What do you mean?”

Damian shifted. The question had been hard enough to ask. It had rattled around his brain for hours, dancing against every other thing fighting for attention. He didn’t want to give anything else his focus right now. He’d cried himself out of his other feelings for the moment.

“How come you’re doing all this?” he asked, “You have not displayed this level of…” Damian paused for the right word, “care before.”

It was the wrong one. Grayson looked struck. His eyes widened, the brush pausing. Damian regretted choosing that word. Regretted saying anything. He’d taken the gifts Grayson had continuously given him and thrown them back in his face.

Grayson looked away from him, “You’re right. I’ve kind of sucked at big brothering haven’t I?”

Damian did not deny it, even if the denial was true. Grayson was a good big brother. He was considerate and protective. He listened, and valued his family. Damian had watched it. Watched Grayson balance courtly duties with familial since he’d arrived. But denying it would remind Grayson that he had done very few of those things with Damian up until this point.

That was not why he was asking. Damian had done nothing in the past few days to deserve such a change of heart.

“I did not mean that.” Damian said, “I meant, why did you come for me? And why have you continued to care after you returned me home? I am not worth the effort. I failed, worst of all I,” he tried to flex his wing, only slightly rippling the water, “I have lost all worth to anyone but witches needing spell supplies.”

“Damian!” Grayson’s attention shot to him, “Don’t you dare talk like that. I came for you because you’re family.”

He reached into the tub and tilted Damian’s face towards him, “I told you already, you’re incredible. I don’t care how many wings you have, you’re my brother, and that makes you worth everything.”

Damian huffed, “Mother does not believe so.”

“Bruce couldn’t get a hold of your mom.” Grayson said, “I’m sure she’s going to want to help.”

“Tt. You have not met my mother.”

Grayson grinned at him, “I have. And you know what? Even if she doesn’t care, I do. We’re going to fix this, no matter what. Even if I have to fashion you a new wing out of lightning and stubbornness.”

Damian couldn’t help but laugh at the image of Grayson attempting such a thing, “Now it is you trying to kill me then?” he asked, allowing a smile.

Grayson returned it, “You’re a tough kid. I’m sure if anyone can handle an electric wing, it’s you.”

Damian was slow and sleepy at the end of the bath. He allowed himself to be carried in his brother’s arms. Grayson’s promise to help him figure out his wing temporarily stilled the circles of panic in his mind, even if he figured it would start up again eventually, but for a moment he’d stopped worrying.

Grayson carried him to bed, tucking him in. Damian shifted, trying to adjust his wings. The nub of his missing one rubbed against the bed, teasing a sudden sob from his chest the ache and reminder of its loss still felt too raw. Grayson sat down on the edge of the bed.

“I’m staying with you tonight.” he explained, "No questions asked, okay?”

Damian nodded, not willing to trust his voice.

His brother joined him under the blankets, pausing before he reached to pull him close, “Are you more comfortable as a dragon or a boy?”

Normally Damian hated sleeping in his human form. It was too sensitive, and fragile. He felt unprotected attempting to sleep as a human. Tonight, however, he didn’t want to keep brushing the end of his wing against things. He allowed his answer to be his physical change from dragon to boy. The discomfort from his missing collar bone was little compared to constantly irritating the injury.

He did not argue when a moment later Grayson pulled him close. The man did not ask and Damian did not say anything. He simply shifted to accommodate a second body in the bed and let Grayson do the rest. His brother seemed experienced at this kind of comfort, drawing Damian into his arms and settling him there comfortably.

Damian was warm snuggled against his brother. Having arms wrapped around him made him feel less lonely, and less apt to be attacked while asleep. It was nice.

“Richard?” Damian whispered.

“Am I Richard now?” his brother asked.

Damian huffed, pressing his cheek closer to Richard’s chest, “Thank you.”

He felt a kiss pressed into his forehead, “Of course.”


	10. Aura of Vitality

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I apologize for the long wait for this chapter. Life hit me like a ton of bricks with an extra busy work schedule, allergies, and general exhaustion. Meaning, I just haven't had a lot of time in the past two weeks. To add to that I just kept re-writing this chapter. I've finally settled on a balance I'm happy with, and I hope you guys enjoy it. At this point I can tentatively say there should be two chapters left after this to wrap the whole thing up. Thanks so much for your patience!

Dick woke up hot. _Sweating_. It took him a moment to realize it was because he was wrapped around Damian. The kid was hot. A child sized, sun warmed stone. Being snuggled up to him meant Dick didn’t need the pile of blankets covering them, though Damian looked comfortable.

Actually, he looked content, half his face snuggled into Dick’s chest, with his cheek squished. It was a good look for him. He’d somehow managed to wrap the blankets partially around himself, like he’d wanted the extra warmth. Dick resisted the urge to chuckle, Damian really did love heat. It made sense, but Dick hadn’t realized it until he’d spent extended time around the kid.

He was content to leave Damian sleeping as long as he’d like, but he didn’t want to boil while he did so. Dick released Damian with one arm to tug the blanket off himself. He flipped the extra over his brother and sighed as cool air brushed over him.

Damian snuffled, an arm tugging the extra blanket closer to him as he slept. Dick smiled and wrapped his arm back around the kid, curling again around him. There was something, no matter what form Damian took, that made Dick want to wrap himself protectively around him.

He didn’t know a lot about Damian’s past, only what Bruce had told him when he’d arrived, and the few things Damian had revealed himself. Those facts, few as they were, always stirred something in Dick that made him want to reach out. Now that he and Damian were bonding, he planned on not letting the kid out of his sight. It was time he had someone continually there for him.

Bruce tried, he did. He loved Damian as much as he loved any of his kids. But he had a kingdom to take care of, and Batman, and the rest of his family. Dick could devote more time to his baby brother and make him feel the love of his whole family.

He leaned towards Damian and pressed a kiss to his forehead. His brother huffed and scrunched his nose, squishing closer to Dick before sighing. He blinked awake, his green eyes finding Dick’s face immediately, even as he stayed snuggled close. This surprised Dick, he’d half expected the kid to pull away when he realized his position. Maybe he still hadn’t made that realization.

“Morning.” Dick smiled.

“Richard.” Damian acknowledged.

Dick liked the way his name sounded when Damian said it. He made the name, usually filled with such formality, sound affectionate. Maybe it was an effect of having heard him say Grayson so often, or maybe it was the soft way Damian tapered off when saying Richard.

“How’re you feeling?” Dick asked.

Damian shrugged, “At the moment I am not terrible, but I have not moved in a number of hours.”

“Want to get up and test how you feel?”

Damian shook his head, hair mussing further against Dick’s sleeping tunic. His gaze slipped away to look across the room at something. Dick felt his shirt pull as Damian’s hand tangled in it gripped tighter.

Dick pressed his forehead to Damian’s hair, feeling one of his brother’s little horns, “You’re going to have to get out of bed eventually. There’s a lot to do today, starting with getting a hold of your mom.” He said, his tone gentle.

There was a lot to do, just not so much for Damian. His day could be filled if he wanted it, but Dick didn't think Damian wished to be poked and prodded by teachers already. He doubted the kid would feel good enough to deal with that after even a few hours attention. All Damian really had on his plate was a conversation with Talia and a checkup with Healer Thomkins. It was Dick who was busy, busy and planning to keep Damian close by the whole time.

Damian pulled Dick's tunic so tight he almost choked, and he had to tug the fabric from Damian’s hands as gently as he could to breathe. He laced his fingers through Damian’s free ones and squeezed.

“I’m not going to leave you alone today, if that’s what you’re worried about. But I’m also not going to let you mope all day.”

 

Eventually Dick got Damian up and moving. They took breakfast in Damian’s rooms. It was an argument Dick didn’t want to push Damian on just yet. It was obvious he wasn’t comfortable being seen injured just yet. Still, he’d have to get out and do things. Talia might not be able to fix this, and if she couldn’t they needed to plan for the worst. That meant Damian not moping, and flourishing, wing or no wing.

After breakfast they set off to find Bruce. The first thing on both their minds was to get a hold of Talia. Dick could get the speaking stone and call her himself, but he didn’t trust his temper. Plus, Bruce got along with her better in general. They knew one another well, and it was Bruce Talia had entrusted the stone to, not Dick.

Damian was tense on Dick’s shoulder, having settled back into his dragon form. Apparently he was supposed to spend more time in it to help him heal. Dick had no idea how dragonborn anatomy worked, but he trusted Healer Thompkins, and Damian seemed to think she was on the right track.

Dick wished Damian could hide out as a human, if only to help alleviate some of the anxiety radiating off him. The kid was trembling, even with Dick’s hair tugged blanket like over him. Now that they were out and about he’d fallen back into the silent gloom he’d been in yesterday. Somehow, Dick didn’t think dumping him in the bath was going to work again.

He slid to a stop at the door to Bruce’s office, knocking lightly before opening it. His dad was inside, standing as he shifted stacks of documents around on his desk, he looked up at Dick and Damian’s entrance and smiled softly.

“That’s a nice look for you two.”

“Tt.” Damian said.

Dick grinned, and reached up to give Damian a reassuring pat, “We’re both comfortable with the arrangement.”

“We came to see if you had contacted Mother or not yet?” Damian said, his voice uncertain.

Father hummed, and sat down, “Not yet.”

“Father--” Damian started, but was cut off by Bruce holding a hand up.

He eyed them, “It is still early in the day. Beyond that, we have had few updates from them since you arrived we have no way of knowing what level of disruption they are dealing with. It is possible we will not be able to reach her for a few days.”

Damian shifted, like he was coiling to leap from Dick’s shoulders, his whole body tense and hard, claws digging into Dick’s shoulder with almost painful pressure.

Bruce’s attention shifted directly to Damian, “I’ve sent a letter by messenger already as a back up. And I will be attempting to contact her through the speaking stone over the course of the day, and as long as it takes to reach her. I am not giving up on this, Damian, but you must realize it might take some time.”

Damian’s tightly coiled form relaxed on Dick’s shoulder’s slumping to the point Dick thought he might slip off altogether. With his stomach so close to Dick, he could feel the kid’s racing heart, and faint trembles still running through him.

“I understand.”

“I will let you know the moment I get word from her, alright?”

Damian nodded.

Dick stayed and chatted with Bruce for a while longer, confirming times for various meetings Dick would be expected to attend that day, and delving briefly into Bruce’s latest attempts at changing the political landscape of the country, both inside and outside the cowl.

The moment they left, Dick’s mind began working out ways of distracting Damian through the day. He knew hearing they’d have to wait to hear from Talia was not the answer Damian wanted from his father. He also knew that if left to stew in his own thoughts Damian would sulk and probably convince himself of some inane reason Talia hadn’t been reached yet. The goal, Dick decided, was to keep Damian entertained until they heard from Bruce. Then, depending on Talia’s answer, they’d figure out what to do next.

“It’s still early.” Dick said, peering out a window, it was already sunny, with the sky a brilliant blue, “I’d like to get some practice in while the weather’s mild, how do you feel about heading outside for a while?”

Damian hummed, his own mood subdued.

“We can use one of the less popular training fields.” Dick continued, already moving down the hall, “I’d love some sun, and I bet you’d benefit from a little too.”

He risked poking Damian, “Well?”

Green eyes slid to look at him and Damian flicked his tongue, “I have no problem with venturing outdoors.”

With that blessing, Dick made his way out to the training fields. Training was spread through the day, with the majority set in the earliest hours of the morning, before the sun had bothered to rise, or just towards the edge of night. Things were quieter now. They'd slept in, and while it was morning, they were edging towards afternoon.

The day was still nice. The warmth was holding out against Fall’s chill making the air perfectly crisp under the sun. The breeze held enough of a bite still that it sent the occasional shiver down Dick’s arms. It was unsteady in it’s blowing, leaving Dick more warm than cold.

At last they reached the training area set aside for Dick. Well, others could use it, few rarely did because of its content. In addition to training dummies, and straw targets, there was a large open space set aside with aerial equipment. High and uneven bars were scattered around, and a trapeze took up the center of the area, bright and beautiful. It had only taken a batting of Dick’s lashes and a ‘pleeeeease’ as a child to get Bruce to set this up for him, and Dick had loved it ever since. Prince or not, the circus ran strong in him still.

Damian hopped off his shoulder and settled on a bench within the area to watch Dick practice. He’d picked a spot directly in the sun’s rays and curled up with his head resting on folded arms. The sun shining fully down on him made the places where the witches had pulled scales from painfully obvious. He looked like a glittering bead, with spots of dullness where the shine had been slowly chipped from his exterior. It hurt to look at, though it probably felt worse to Damian. He hadn’t complained much yet, but he had hissed at Dick earlier when he’d accidentally brushed over a bare patch with his hand.

Dick let him sit there and moved into the field proper. He stretched, then warmed up against one of the training dummies. When he felt ready, he climbed the ladder to the top of the trapeze. Below him, he saw Damian’s head pop up from where he’d been resting it. He tilted his head at Dick, but didn’t comment.

He took the bar in his hands, feeling the comforting familiarity of it under his palms. He closed his eyes, breathed, and tuned Damian’s watching gaze out. He stepped off the platform and let himself fly.

It was easy to lose himself in the well practiced movements. In the dip and fall, the way he seemed to glide across the space between platforms. His muscles fell into old familiar patterns of push and pull. He turned and flipped, and breezed from one side to the other and back again.

When he wrapped up his routine, he glanced down at Damian again. His brother’s eyes were still locked on him, mouth slightly agape. Dick grinned and waved at him. He had the sudden image of Damian flying next to him one day and his heart tumbled. He’d do anything to have Damian be able to learn to fly.

He climbed down the ladder and knelt by Damian’s bench, “Wanna come up with me?” he asked, “I promise, I won’t do anything to make you fall.”

Damian blinked at him, “I cannot grip the bar.” He glanced away, “You know that.”

Dick plucked him up from where he was curled and wrapped him back around his shoulders, “You don’t have to, just hold on to me.”

He took long strides back to the trapeze, and climbed the ladder two rungs at a time to keep Damian from chickening out. He dusted his hands again and took the bar back between his hands. Damian’s claws dug into his shoulder and Dick jumped.

His brother yelped, and gripped harder, loosening just before he pierced Dick’s shirt. Dick wasn’t sure that he’d even notice if Damian’s claws did dig in, his brother’s yelp had turned quickly into a laugh, bubbled up and pulled from his little chest in a puff of white smoke and sparks.

Dick smelled the sulfur and ash as it blew back at him, and as little as he liked the smell, it made him grin. He heard the fwap of leather as Damian’s wing caught the air. Dick had to reach up to make sure he stayed tight on his shoulders, and landed.

“How was that?” Dick asked.

He could feel Damian’s heart racing against his chest. He leaned his head into Dick’s neck, and shuddered.

At last, he whispered, “Like flying with mother.”

Dick ran his hand over Damian’s head, “Good?” he asked.

Damian nodded.

He settled Damian back onto the bench and worked on his swordplay for a little while. It was apparently less interesting than the trapeze as Damian fell asleep in the sun. His brother was hot as a stone toasted by the fire when Dick lifted him into his arms to head back inside. He snuggled into Dick’s arms, puffing white smoke as he settled in.

Dick settled him on his own bed while he washed up from the workout, and came out to a groggy brother. He acquiesced to riding on Dick’s shoulders again, and into a meeting Dick had to attend.

The longer it went, the more uncomfortable Damian was. Dick could tell by the way he squirmed and shuffled, even after he’d found his way to Dick’s shoulder. Dick was sure his brother was hurting again, it had been a while since he’d had any kind of pain killing potion, even with the rest he’d gotten.

He was grumpy and antsy and puffing out smoke that seemed to be darkening with every breath. If Dick knew anything about Damian’s health, dark smoke was not a good sign. He’d been breathing it out in waves when Dick had found him and had really only stopped after Healer Thompkins potion had kicked in.

They left the meeting with Dick promising himself they were on their way to see Healer Thompkins next, instead he walked out to see Tim standing by the door. It felt like forever since Dick had seen his other siblings. He’d spent so much time focusing on Damian everything else had melted away.

Seeing Tim brought a smile to his face. He hoped Tim’s wound was healing well, he looked better than he had when Dick had left. His face was less drawn and he seemed brighter. When he saw Dick, he smiled, but the smile faltered into something uncomfortable when he caught sight of Damian.

“Tim! It’s good to see you.” Dick said, giving him a bright smile.

“I missed you when you came back yesterday.” Tim said, he shifted, eyes darting from Dick to Damian.

“You feeling better?” Dick asked.

“Yeah. I’m...I’m fine. Leslie’s potions work like a charm.” He shifted from foot to foot again, and started playing with a ring on one of his fingers.

Dick wasn’t sure how to break the tension between Damian and Tim. For Damian’s part, he’d been surprisingly quiet, he’d tensed a bit on Dick’s shoulder, and his tail swished back and forth against Dick’s back, but he hadn’t said a word yet. Tim seemed just as confused as to what to do with the situation. Maybe he’d been expecting to just find Dick?

“I’m--” Tim started.

“Drake--” Damian said at the same time.

Both stopped, blinking at one another. Dick felt Damian shake his head.

Tim swallowed, “I’m glad to see you both back safe. I heard about what happened in the woods.” he paused, eyes flicking up, possibly to Damian’s back, “I hope Talia can help sort things out.”

Dick held a breath as they watched each other for a moment. It was strange being in the middle of the conversation, but now that he was here he refused to ruin whatever was happening.

Damian seemed to raise himself up on Dick’s shoulder, “I wished to apologize for my behavior the other day. I did not mean to react in such a way. It will not happen again.”

“Me too.” Tim said, rubbing the back of his neck, “I shouldn’t have pushed you the way I did.”

With that the tension seemed to ebb out of both of them, Tim visibly slumping, and Damian settling back down, with his tail looping back around Dick’s shoulders.

“I should go.” Tim said, “I just wanted to check in. I’m sure the others will want to do the same through the day.”

At that, Damian’s grip on Dick’s shoulder tightened again. It was easy to tell why, he didn’t want to be on display for everyone, or didn’t want to feel like he was on display. Dick knew they wouldn’t mean to make him feel that way, but it might happen all the same.

Dick smiled again, “I’m really glad you found us, let’s go over camping details at dinner, yeah? I’m eager to hear what you and Jason have settled on.”

They parted and Dick found his way back to the infirmary with few other distractions. Damian put up with the examination with grumbles and an almost bite at Leslie, a sure sign he was feeling worse. She took it in stride, being stern but gentle with him as she almost had to force the potion down his throat.

“I hate potions.” Damian grumbled once they left. “They make me feel weird and tired.”

“But they help with healing.”

Damian shrugged, wincing, “What good are they if they cannot fix the principal issue.”

“Kiddo,” Dick started, but Damian interrupted him.

Green eyes narrowed at him, “My name is Damian, not kiddo, and I do not require coddling. I am simply stating a fact.”

Dick pressed his lips together and nodded, “Alright, no coddling, Damian.”

“Hey, how do you feel about us going to see Barbara?” Dick asked, to change the subject.

Damian perked up at this question, “I have no issues with that. I would like to talk with her as well.”

A twinge of worry found its way into Dick’s chest. He hoped Damian hadn’t gotten his hopes up about what Barbara could do. Just because she’d seen part of the problem didn’t mean she’d be able to see what was going to happen with his wing. No matter how hurt Damian was, Dick wasn’t going to let him bully Barbara and try to make her divine what his fate was. He almost turned around to put off finding Babs, but if he let the day go on any longer it would be too late to see her. He decided to risk it.

“Damian?” Dick asked, as they walked.

“Yes?”

“Why do you want to talk to Babs?”

“Tt.” Damian said, shifting.

Dick stopped mid-stride, “If you’re planning on trying to make her see what's going to happen next I’m going to have to ask you not to.”

Damian shifted so he look look at Dick, his eyes fierce, “Do you really believe my intent is to force Gordon to divine my future?”

Dick opened his mouth to answer yes that had been his worry, Damian had hesitated after all. His brother beat him to the answer, tutting with irritation.

“I see.” There was something hurt under Damian’s angry tone giving Dick a flicker of doubt about his assumption.

Damian climbed down from his shoulder and hopped to the ground, stumbling for a moment as he regained his balance, his single wing flaring out to catch him. When he’d found his footing again he returned to glaring at Dick. His glare was less imposing from the floor, but still as angry as it had been.

“I had hoped you thought better of me than to assume such a thing, but I see I was wrong.” Damian said, then turned to stalk down the hallway, or he attempted to.

He made it a few steps before he stumbled again, swearing to himself. His wing flailed, the stump jerking to compensate, and he fell. Dick moved to help him, but before he could Damian had changed back into a boy, and stormed down the hall.

Dick let him go. It was best to let him calm down for a while. Dick though he needed the time too. He had a feeling they might get into a shouting match if he left things as they were, and he didn’t want that to happen.

Dinner was soon, and Dick found the table empty of Damian. He'd apparently asked to have his meal in his room again. Dick turned to Tim and chatted with him for a little while, distracting himself from the way things went down with Damian. After dinner, Dick went to the library to read, but he couldn’t focus on the book. He needed to talk to Damian.

He knocked lightly on his brother’s door, and opened it. Damian was curled on his bed, back in his dragon form. At first Dick thought he might be asleep, but then green eyes flicked open at him. Dick gave him a small smile.

“Can I come in?”

“You have already let yourself in.”

Dick stepped inside, and moved to sit on the bed, “I’m sorry.” he said, “I jumped to a conclusion and didn’t allow you to answer my question.”

Damian huffed.

“So,” Dick prompted, “How come you wanted to talk to Babs? You guys haven’t spent a lot of time together so I don’t have a lot to go on.”

Damian sat up and glared at him, it lacked the heat from earlier, “I thought it would be obvious.”

Dick’s blank stare told him it wasn’t.

“She helped save my life. If not for her speaking up and finding that potion I do not know where I would be.” Damian said, “The last thing I want is to use her for anything.”

“Dames, I--”

Damian shook his head, “No. You don’t understand.”

Dick realized Damian’s eyes were watery, “You assumed all I wanted was her abilities.” the line was a bitter bite of anger, “You thought I--”

“Damian stop.” Dick said, “I did think you wanted to have her look into the future for you, but--”

“No! She’s not a thing Richard. She’s not just something that can be pulled out and used whenever. She, I…” Damian’s voice cracked, the sheen to his eyes welled into fat tears, “I’m not just a thing.”

“Oh, Damian.” Dick tugged his brother forward, settling him in his lap.

He wrapped his arms tightly around him, “I jumped to a conclusion, it’s true but it was to protect Babs. I did it because she’s not a thing, you’re so right about that. And neither are you.”

Damian sniffed, and tried to pull away, “How do you know?” he said, still angry, “Why would you even understand?”

Dick tightened his grip, and used a hand to tilt Damian’s face up to look at him, “Because I’ve spent my whole life fighting off that feeling too.” he gave Damian a tiny smile, “Did you think that people wouldn’t go after someone like me?”

At this Damian stilled, blinking at him, “Truly?”

Dick nodded, “It happened so often as a child Bruce stopped letting me go out for a short period of time.” Dick gave a wry laugh, “That is until one of the castle staff snatched me out from under his nose.”

Damian’s eyes widened.

“That same man,” Dick continued, “cut off most of my hair just because he thought it had magic in it. Others threatened to take more.” he leaned down and press his forehead to Damian’s, “I’m so sorry they succeeded with you.”

Damian sniffled again, and this time he curled into Dick’s hold. It didn’t take long for Dick’s tunic to soak through with hot tears. Damian was shaking, but not sobbing, just crying against him, quiet little tears.

Dick shushed him, and ran his hand gently over Damian’s head in soothing motions, “You’re worth more than those women ever could have imagined just by being you.”

He let Damian stay there, curled in his lap for as long as he needed to. It took a while, but Damian stopped shaking and dried his tears, curling at last away from Dick’s chest to simply rest in his arms.

“Feel a little better?” Dick asked.

Damian nodded.

“I’m glad, now do you want to go find Babs and thank her?”

They found Barbara in the gardens, enjoying the cool night air and starry sky. The moon was half full, shining brightly down. Dotted around the garden soft lights made of magic floated, lighting pathways in gentle tones. Dick couldn’t help but smile seeing her as she took in the bright constellations above her. She was stunning. At the rustle of Dick’s approach, Babs glanced up to see who was coming. She caught sight of Dick and smiled, matching Dick’s own.

“Evening.” She said.

“Evening.” Dick returned.

Damian shuffled on his shoulder, “Good evening, Gordon.”

Dick had almost forgotten about his brother riding on his shoulder. He glanced over at the kid, Damian looked a little bashful, and Dick couldn’t figure out why. He caught Dick’s eyes and flicked his tongue.

“Damian.” Babs smiled, “How are you feeling?”

Something brushed against Dick’s neck, the remaining stump of Damian’s wing, an instinctual movement. Damian’s claws on Dick’s shoulder tightened.

“At the moment I am alright. Healer Thompkins potion, while exhausting, has dulled the pain.” Damian said.

“I was sorry to hear about what happened.” Babs said, “If there’s anything I can do for you, let me know.”

“Richard told me you gave him the potion that helped break the witches spell.” Damian shifted, to lean forward and continue, “Your gifts proved useful during my rescue. Without your forewarning I might still be trapped in a single form. Being trapped like that would be worse than dealing with a single wing. Thank you.”

It was surprisingly easy to forget that Damian’s human form was as important to him as his dragon one. Dick was used to seeing the kid as a dragon, and scorning being a human. They were both part of him however, even if he was more comfortable in one. Dick couldn’t imagine losing half of himself.

“Of course, I’m glad it helped.” Babs answered.

They chatted for a while, Damian warming up to the conversation even more as they talked. Out of everyone, Dick knew that Damian saw Babs as someone to look up to. You could see it on his face when he was around her. Dick wasn’t sure what she’d done to earn his respect as quickly as she had even before all this, but she had.

Before they could wrap the conversation up, footsteps approached them coming from the castle. Dick and Damian turned to find Bruce walking over. Dick raised an eye at him.

Bruce nodded at Barbara before addressing Dick and Damian, “I managed to contact your mother, Damian.”

 


	11. Bones of the Earth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is 11:32 so it is still technically Tuesday for me, and thus I am only a day late on posting again lol. The good news is that I'll be on time next week because that chapter is done.
> 
> Also the next chapter will be the last for this fic, thank you guys so much for sticking with me through all this. I adored working on it, and I've been so blown away by everyone's reactions to the story. Thank you so much for enjoying this work.

They left Barbara to follow Father. Damian found a piece of Richard’s hair to play with and started braiding it absently while he watched Father’s back as they walked. Father had not said anything more than he’d contacted Mother. Was she still on the stone? Had they already finished their conversation? Would she wish to speak with Damian?

Their destination was Father’s office where they were directed to sit down. Damian stayed resting on Richard’s shoulders, still braiding and unbraiding the piece of hair.

“So?” Richard asked, “What did she say?”

“I have not spoken directly with her yet.” Father said, and Damian wanted to scream. Why tell them he had if he had not?

Father held up a hand, “She’s just arrived back from a trip, and will be returning my call soon. I spoke with one of her retainers and was promised contact within the hour. That is why I went to get you, I assumed you may wish to speak with her.” this was directed at Damian.

Damian swallowed, “I am unsure how she will take the news, but yes, I would like to hear her voice.”

He had not been away from home long, but he missed home and his mother. Mother was not the softest of parents, but she cared. Damian knew this. No matter what he was asked to do or endure nothing would erase gentle memories of being much smaller and cradled against her. Of her stories about the dragon’s long history. Of freezing desert nights when she would keep him close to her belly, warm and safe from the cold.

Even if those tender moments had disappeared with age, Damian could tell she cared. She would not have sent him away to the safety of Father’s kingdom if she did not. Neither would she have pushed him the way she did during training. He had to be strong enough to endure anything, and she would not allow for him to be weak in any way. If he was, one of their enemies would waste no time using that against him.

He also missed the comfort of home. Missed being surrounded by other dragons, and knowing the way things worked. Since he had come to Father’s kingdom, Damian had done little but feel like he was messing up. Every time he turned around there was a new rule or custom he had not known about, or someone he had offended in a strange way. It was maddening to be so out of his element, and to have to do it in a form he had little comfort in.

Still, his human form was part of him. It was something he could not ignore, and the half of his heritage that was tied to it was important for him to learn. That did not change how much he yearned for the comfortable familiarity of home.

The violet stone on Father’s desk glowed as it’s partner attempted communication. The next moment Mother’s voice flowed out, slightly distant, but her’s all the same.

“Beloved?”

“Talia.” Father answered, “I have Dick and Damian with me as well.”

“Hello.” Richard said.

“Mother.” Damian tried to keep his voice from wavering with any kind of emotion.

Richard noticed his tension, and reached up to rub his head in a soothing motion. Damian resisted the urge to lean into the comfort. He need not fear anything his mother said, nor be anxious about how their conversation was going to go. She would, of course, do whatever she needed to help him.

“I was told this was urgent, why are we clogging the conversation?” Mother’s voice was impatient, eager to get back to her plans.

“It is.” Father said, “It’s in regards to our son. As you know, no land holds complete safety, and mine is no exception. While assisting us with a poaching problem, Damian became entangled with the poachers themselves and lost one of his wings.”

Damian could almost hear his mother’s gaze sharpen, could feel the fire flickering with danger behind her eyes as she spoke, “What?”

It was not a question lacking understanding. From anyone else in the world it would have been a furious bellow. Mother’s tone was quiet and still. Damian had heard this tone only a few times in his life, and more often than not the one bearing such news found their lives cut short the next moment.

“Richard saved his life, and as you heard he is doing well--”

“No dragon does well missing a wing.” Mother snapped, “I cannot believe you would knowingly allow my son to enter into such danger.”

Father’s brows drew together, “He is not just your son.”

The conversation devolved into a fight with that. A back and forth of who and how as responsibility was tossed and shoved. Even mother’s quiet fury turned to actual shouts at one point.

Damian might have expected this, there was a reason Father and Mother did not live together, that Damian had not met his own father until he arrived in his kingdom. Still, Damian had hoped things would go smoother than they did.

Richard at last got their attention taking advantage of both Father and Mother pausing for breath, “We didn’t contact you just to tell you he’d been hurt, we did it to see if you could help Damian at all.”

“Of course.” Mother’s answer was immediate, “There was never any question otherwise.”

Damian could not stop a sigh of relief, Mother was willing to help. Not only that, but it had been her first instinct.

“He will have to return home for the surgery, but we will be able to repair what has been broken. You have his lost wing, correct?”

Richard nodded before realizing she couldn’t see him, “I saved it yes.”

“We will need that as well. We cannot attach the wing, but we can use it for the formation of a new one. The preparations will take time, but should be completed by the time Damian returns. I will send an envoy to escort him home.”

Father sobered at this news as well, and the rest of the details were worked out with a smoothness that would make one think a fight never happened between Damian’s parents. And then, like that, Damian’s immediate future was settled.

He would not be leaving permanently, but for a large chunk of time. Damian wished deeply that Richard had been invited, so he could have the comfort of other family close by. As it was, he alone would be going.

He spent the week leading up to his departure sulking. The looks he received from the people in the castle had not changed beyond shock or purposeful ignorance. The waiting itself was agonizing. Damian did not want to wait. He was still in pain, and wished to have all this over with.

Worst of all, if he wished to move around on his own he was forced to do it in his human form. It was too difficult to attempt to balance in his dragon form, and he did not wish to adjust his ability to balance with healing so close. He just wanted to feel normal again.

Richard tried his best to keep Damian busy and distracted, but it did not always work. So, by the time Mother’s men arrived, Damian was anxious and irritated more often than not.

“You cannot come?” Damian asked, Richard quietly as Father spoke with the men, finalizing time frames and journey preparations.

“We’ve talked about this, Dames. I’m not invited. I can’t just barge my way into your mother’s court and expect to be allowed to stay. Things will go smoother this way.”

Richard tugged Damian’s face close to his neck in a small hug, “Besides, I’ll be right here waiting for you when you get back.”

* * *

As much as Damian had been missing home, he realized how little he fit in anymore the moment he returned. While the ways of the dragons were familiar, Damian felt alien to them. His time with his father had helped him see things differently. Especially in regards to how the League of Shadows acted and worked.

It was confusing.

Father’s way of looking at the world was something Damian had not previously considered. To impart justice, but also mercy, and to value all life, and not just that of the strong or worthy was honorable. Damian understood that. But it was also different. It did not move the world the same way Grandfather’s ways did. It was not a firm hand of strength, nor a fierce power that ignored all bounds.

Damian had first buckled against Father’s words and ways, but had been slowly starting to understand them. He felt like he had seen them in action now as well. Wielded by Richard as he sought Damian even after he failed. As he was furious for Damian even though he did not deserve it. As he cared for him even after he he been reduced to something far less effective than he had been before. Richard proved that Father’s ways could work.

But they were not Mother’s. They were not Grandfather’s. They were not the ways Damian had known and trusted for so long. That way had made sense. If not, how had Grandfather been so successful for so long? How had he held such sway and power if his teachings were wrong?

He had been raised a certain way. Raised to rule. To step into a destiny far greater than he could imagine for himself. He was to be Batman, a strong hand and change in the world to help. But he could not do that and follow both teachings of his family.

He did not know what to do, or how to think. He simply wanted to make his family proud. Mother and Father. He wished to be the very best version of himself they both wanted him to be. More than that, Damian wished to be accepted and loved. If he was not on the right path, would both still care for him? If he was would one’s love fail?

He did not have to deal with the spirling questions very long, too soon he was moved into the chamber where they would repair his wing. There he was sedated and knew little until the operation was completed. For this, Damian was grateful. The pain of losing a wing had been terrible. When he woke, his back was a throbbing mass of pain.

In the fuzziness of it all, he was told he would be kept on medication and bed rest until the swelling had gone down. Damian had nodded, and bitten back a plea for someone to knock him back out.

It hurt so much, Damian did not realize the change in his situation until almost days later. When Mother’s healers were replacing the tight bandages around his middle. The released and Damian felt the familiar _whole_ rustle of two wings on his back, lift slightly to catch the air of the room. He had known the operation had been successful, but it was different feeling it.

He wanted to shift them, to raise and lower both wings in tandem and feel the way he had felt his whole life. Moving sparked pain again, and Damian settled on being pleased things had worked.

It took almost a week before he was allowed to leave his bed, and another before they removed the bandages. He was still tender, the new wing tingly and prone to hurting if he brushed it against something the wrong way, but it was there. He was himself again, whole and complete,and full.

He was to be sent home soon, with Pennyworth on his way to pick Damian up himself. With that knowledge the healers filled his head with a hundred instructions. Do not change for at least a fortnight. Do not attempt anything that might strain the wing for just as long. Do not attempt to fly until full strength has returned to it. Take the potions we have set out for you, and ensure you continue to each week until you have healed.

Damian nodded and nodded and hoped they would repeat the words to Pennyworth. His head was spinning and light in a way he had not expected. He was careful not to extend and retract his wing multiple times with the healers there, for fear that they would say this was ‘straining’ it.

When he was alone he moved it as much as he wanted. Stretching it and folding it close to himself. He sat down in front of a mirror and pulled it towards his face with his hands, feeling the texture and noting that it was a brighter, almost golden shade, compared to his bronze. Other than the color, it looked exactly like his original wing had.

He turned, trying to get a good look at his back. There were no scar lines marring the once broken patch of wing, and most of his scales had grown back in at this point, some glittering gold like his wing, others a darker, almost rust brown, where they had been difficult to pluck. The wing itself looked like it had always been a part of Damian’s body, leaving him to wonder if by some magic they had forced it to grow from the stump of the old one, instead of attaching a wing. No one would tell him exactly how it was done, a secret held strongly by Draconic Healers.

The day of Pennyworth’s arrival Damian was called in to see his mother. He had not seen her since arriving, which was unsurprising. The older Damian had gotten, the less time he had spent with Mother, more and more of it being devoted to training.

He was careful to fold both wings neatly against his back when he entered. She still frowned at him when she caught sight of the wing, and true to form, her first words were not those of praise.

“Tt. It will be discolored until your next molting.”

Damian didn’t care that his wing was a different color. Once upon a time he might be, but he was simply happy to have it. It did not matter what it looked like, it mattered that it existed at all.

“Thank you for your assistance.” Damian said.

His mother waved off his thanks, “We cannot allow our heir to be disabled in such a way.” she looked him over, “I called you here to speak of how you have been treated at your Father’s home.”

Damian bristled at her tone, cold and unhappy, “Father has treated me well.”

“So well that he allowed one of his illegitimate brats to goad you into a fight, and so well that you had no recourse but to leave to attempt to regain your honor?”

Damian’s fire sparked, “They are not illegitimate. None of them.”

“They are not blood.”

“They are my family.”

Damian was surprised at how much heat was in his words. Even as tempestuous as his relationship was with most of his father’s children was he realized that they were indeed his family. And, as Richard had said, family took care of each other.

“They are my family, Mother. As much as you are. I will not have you disrespect them like this. You trusted me with them, and Richard saved my life. My injuries were my own fault, and none of theirs.”

His mother scoffed, “You do not sound like the son I raised.”

“And you sent me to learn from Father. It has been successful so far if you do not completely recognize my behavior.”

A dragon cleared his throat from behind them, “A Mr. Pennyworth is here to collect young master Damian.”

“We are not done with this topic.” Mother said, “But we can continue it at a later date.”


	12. Ceremony: Atonement

Damian was grumpy, tired, and sore, by the time their carriage arrived back at the castle. Even with pain numbing potions, the ride had been terrible. No amount of plush comfort or mind numbing magic could have made it easy on his body. He’d thought he was feeling better. But movement, and the shaking rattling of the carriage had confirmed the healer’s words, he still needed much rest.

Pennyworth offered to carry Damian as they exited, but Damian declined. Sore as he was, he wanted to return home on his own. He’d resisted looking out the windows as they’d come up to the castle, worry beating against his chest that Richard would not be there. He had promised, but life often got in the way of promises.

Pennyworth reached out to open the carriage door, and it pulled away from him. Richard stood outside, grinning widely as he held the door. Damian wanted to fling himself at the man, as a strange joy filled him. His brother was right where he said he’d be.

He let Richard help Pennyworth out and then went to follow the man, instead his brother scooped him up and into his arms.

“Damian! Look at you!” he said, holding Damian up in the sunlight.

Damian squirmed and glared at him, resisting the urge to smile. “Yes, indeed.” he said, “Put me down if you are going to goggle.”

“You look magical.” Richard said, still smiling, and still holding Damian, “Absolutely magical.”

“Tt, as if i would be anything else.”

He didn’t mind the hold so much, it was better than a tight hug that might squish his tender wing, and the sun felt good on his scales. Richard settled Damian onto his shoulders. It was like they’d done it a thousand times instead of a number over a week. Damian was comfortable there, and Richard did not seem to mind him.

“I know Bruce and everyone will want to see you, but why don’t we sit outside for a bit, and catch up.”

Damian agreed, and after a quick word with Pennyworth, promising they’d find their way inside soon, they found their way to the gardens. Damian climbed off Richard’s shoulder and settled in a patch of sunlight on their bench.

“Do you mind?” Richard asked, motioning towards Damian’s wing.

He shook his head, “No. It is still somewhat tender, so do not pull. But it is find to examine.”

He pushed down any nervousness at Richard’s examination. The man had done nothing to make Damian have to worry about rejection yet. Even if their reunion hadn’t been the best way to really look him over.

Richard’s fingers were gentle as they pulled Damian’s wing up and out, brushing over it like it was glass.

“It’s beautiful.” he said, “Like gold.”

“That will fade.” Damian said.

“Then we’ll enjoy it while it lasts.” Richard said, letting go, “So tell me all about it, and then I’ll tell you about how bored I was waiting here for you.”

“Tt.” Damian said, but he smiled at him, “I doubt you were as bored as I was.”

* * *

Damian rode on Richard’s back as his brother navigated the Fall Festival. It was the prime location, both for viewing and to ensure he was not separated from his brother. He was still a week away from being able to change back into a boy, so this was his best choice if he wanted to attend and not end up trampled by hundreds of feet. The city was busy, buzzing with people and excitement. All around him, Damian could smell meats cooking, and baked goods, warm and freshly pulled from ovens. There were other scents, spices and bodies, and the familiar scent of fires crackling everywhere. 

Banners in reds, oranges, and browns were hung on buildings and across paths. People wore crowns made of still flowering plants, and the bright beautiful leaves drifting off trees. Not that Damian could always see the decorations. There were people everywhere. Creatures of every kind filled the square, mingling and chatting, shopping, and eating. It was loud and exciting. The noise and bustle shook Damian's chest and perked his ears in every direction. It also made him grip tightly to Richard's cloak, slung around his shoulders for added warmth against the oncoming chill. The last thing he wanted was to fall onto his almost healed wing. 

“Honeycomb!” a vendor called. “Honeycomb here!”

Damian craned his head in the direction of the man’s voice, “Richard.” he asked, not pleading. It was most certainly not a plead of any kind. 

“You can have some, but don’t give me any. It’s too early in the night to lose my senses.”

Damian frowned at him, “What are you talking about?”

“Honey, it’s like alcohol to elves.” 

“Tt. I do not know if that is good or bad.” 

He was hesitant now to go after the treat. It was his favorite, but if it was dangerous to Richard....

Richard chuckled, “It’s fine, Damian. I'll have some later. For now, let’s get you some before the show starts.”

Damian was soon handed a large chunk of honeycomb to snack on that he immediately set into, all his hesitation forgotten in the wake of the delightful snack. The sweet flavor burst against his tongue, and filled his senses. He let Richard guide them through the crowd to stop at a large platform. 

Beside them stood Brown and Cain both eagerly looking up at the stage. Damian turned his attention to it as four men came out. Almost as soon as they did they began to juggle balls and clubs, and an assortment of other things. A fifth man stepped out holding a hoop. He centered himself between the jugglers and blew fire, lighting the hoop on fire. He split it into three flaming hoops and began juggling them.

Damian huffed, “I still do not understand what is so special about this.”

Richard chuckled, “Wait a few years and you might.”

Damian rolled his eyes, “If you wish to see fire simply ask me.”

Richard’s hand found his head and the spot just behind one of his horns he liked rubbed, “Oh? And how is that flame of yours coming?”

The question caught Damian off guard, and instead of answering he took another large bite from his honeycomb. Richard chuckled at him. 

After the fire jugglers, they continued to wander the festival, sampling foods and drinks as they did. Damian wanted everything shiny he saw. He could not, and did not buy every shimmering bauble they came across, Father had not given him that much allowance, and as Richard explained, Damian might live in a castle, but at some point he would run out of room. Even so, Damian did not disparage Richard from buying him all kinds of little trinkets and baubles as they moved. His brother always seemed to pick up on the one's that truly caught Damian's attention. A crystal, glittering in the light, or a small jar with a flame flickering all on it's own inside. A pair of emerald earrings that sparkled with the tiniest of movements.

"Here." Richard said, as they stopped at a flower seller, "I think this is perfect for you." he placed a tiny flower crown on Damian's head, made of leaves and flowers that looked like fire themselves, framed with rich green leaves. 

"It's been spelled not to fade." the girl at the stand said, "As long as you don't get it wet, it will last for almost a year. Then you can dry it out or magic it again." 

Damian reached up and brushed a hand across the petals of one of the flowers, it was silky soft.  

"It's wonderful." Damian told them, "But you must let me pick one out for you too, Richard." 

He looked over the selection with a careful eye, and found one made of flowers that were a deep blue in their centers, that faded out to white by the time they touched the tips of the petals. Babies breath, and tiny blue flowers of all kinds of colors were dotted through it, tied together with soft vines. 

They paid for both crowns and Damian spent some time braiding Richard's hair through the crown as they moved. He folded it up, and around the delicate blossoms, so that it seemed to seamlessly flow with his hair, and wouldn't fall off if they were jostled too much. Damian had little worry about his own falling off, it was hooked over a horn and quite firmly in place. 

“That one would be perfect for Gordon.” Damian said, as they examined a selection of jeweled mirrors. He pointed out a mirror decorated with delicate vines dancing their way up each side, ending in a brilliant blue flower at the top.

“Since when are you interested in getting things for Babs?” Richard asked, his tone playful.

“I am not.” Damian scoffed, “But she was of great assistance to me, and I would like to help choose something she will enjoy. Besides, if you give it to her she will be happy.”

Richard purchased the mirror.

Damian made a special purchase of his own that night, a book of unsolved ghost stories for Drake. Richard had told him that Drake enjoyed those kinds of things, and Damian had not truly made up for the bite yet. Richard had told him an apology was good enough, but even with one Damian still felt he needed to do something.

He would wrap the book and leave it unmarked for Drake in the morning. That would ensure he could not reject the gift.

The end of the night left him exhausted and ready for sleep. Richard had not felt the need to sleep beside Damian since he had returned with his wing replaced. Damian had not asked for his company either. He should not need the man beside him simply to sleep, and for the first week or so he'd been so exhausted he had no trouble sleeping even before he made it back to his rooms. Tonight Damian felt more lonely than he should. If anything, the day of excitement had left him feeling odd when he was finally alone. 

He was thankful for his brother’s attention since everything had happened. He would not admit it, but he had not been looking forward to facing his recovery alone. Richard had not let that happen, had not even considered it. Something had changed in his brother’s opinion of him and Damian had no idea how it had. He had done nothing. And Richard had not reacted as everyone else had to his injury, so it did not seem done out of pity. Even mostly healed at this point Richard’s attention had not wavered, and Damian was fairly certain it would not in the future.

He snuck out of his bedroom and found Richard’s. The man was already asleep, flopped onto his back with his mouth open in a snore. He would not mind Damian’s joining him if he did not trouble his sleep.

Damian tutted quietly and climbed up onto the bed, curling on his brother’s stomach.

“Dames?” Richard’s voice was groggy.

“Go to sleep Richard.”

“Come ‘er. Don’t stay there.”

Damian slipped off his stomach and moved to curl up by Richard’s face. His brother frowned at him in the dark.

“It’s more comfortable if you’re a boy.”

“I am not supposed to change yet.”

“Rules are made to be broken, you feel fine right?”

Damian rolled his eyes, aware his brother probably didn’t see it, and allowed himself to change forms. It was easier than he’d imagined it would be after almost a month in a single form. His wing gently folded back into the new collar bone, still somewhat tender, but most likely safe for a single night.

Richard wasted no time in tugging him into his chest and burying his face in Damian’s hair, “Good. Now you can sleep better too.”

Damian blushed and snuggled close, “Shut up and go to sleep.”

He felt a kiss pressed into his hair, “Love you too.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank you all so so much for reading and staying with me as I've shared this particular story with you. It was a lot of fun to write, and it's been incredible reading everyone's responses as they've followed along. I'm very glad to have gotten to share this story with you all, and I hope you'll stick around for future entries into the Fantasy AU. There's no way we're finished with this AU, it's far too much fun to write for and explore. So look for more on the horizon. Until then, thanks so much!


End file.
